


the cold never bothered me anyway

by icoulddothisallday



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awkward Boners, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bucky is an Awkward Millennial, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Enthusiastic Consent, Everybody is Awkward AF okay?, Everyone Gets a Letter from LGBTQIA, Explicit Consent, First Time, Frozen references, Jewish Bucky Barnes, M/M, Minor Injuries, Non-Graphic Medical Care, Shrunkyclunks, Shy Steve Rogers, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, This Is Incredibly Self-Indulgent, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Virginity Hangups, the bad guys have religious motivations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-12 03:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 75,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11728869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icoulddothisallday/pseuds/icoulddothisallday
Summary: Bucky Barnes has spent his whole life in a state of mild hypothermia. Steve Rogers has spent the last 70 years in the ice. The two things aren’t related until, suddenly, they are. Shrunkyclunks soulmate AU (AKA the awkward bb au).





	1. so he's a bit of a fixer upper

**Author's Note:**

> You know that thing where fanfiction authors describe a story as the ______ AU no one asked for? Yeah, this is the shrunkyclunks soulmate AU everyone asked for. And badgered me for. And enabled shamelessly and without compunction. Y’all know who you are and what you’ve done. Special mentions go to [tetrodotoxinb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TetrodotoxinB/pseuds/TetrodotoxinB), who also beta’d this awkward mess, scootypuffjrsucks, and softobsidian74. You guys are the absolute best. They also all wrote amazing big bang stories, so if you're looking for something to read after this...
> 
> [Art by Instagrims!](http://instagrims.tumblr.com/post/164440456132/the-cold-never-bothered-me-anyway-a-moodboard-for)

The first time James Buchanan Barnes is hospitalized for hypothermia he is three months old. It’s June and the sun is beating down on the brick buildings of Brooklyn, making it feel like the inside of a stone oven. His ma, elated with her first child, goes to get him out of the back of her car, only to find him cold and blue in his carseat. She rushes him to the hospital, where the doctors are baffled by his condition. The only possible explanation is the mirroring effect - somewhere out there his soulmate must have been very cold indeed. 

That it happens once is strange, but not all that notable. People have suffered all sorts of things across the bond, and he’s not the first to get chilled because their soul mate is cold. 

But it doesn’t just happen once. 

Bucky Barnes is admitted to the hospital suffering from hypothermia at least twice a year for the next twenty-two years. In fact, when he’s three, he visits the hospital on no less than eleven occasions, each time blue and cold to the touch no matter what the weather is outside. The hypothermia is worse when it’s cold outside, of course, but it can be deep in the dog days of summer when people crowd the movie theatres and ice cream parlors, and Bucky will be tucked into a sweater and two pairs of socks. 

When he’s seven, his parents move to Arizona, hoping the heat there will keep the cold of his bond at bay. And while it does help, there’s no stopping the cold that creeps into Bucky’s bones from nowhere at all. 

They see specialists and experts, but the only way to treat a mirroring ailment is to treat Bucky’s soulmate, and they’re nowhere to be found. His parents register Bucky with every matching service there is. When he’s ten, they even hire a private eye, but they have no luck. 

When Bucky is eighteen, he insists on moving back to New York. His mother is, understandably, infuriated. But Bucky knows that’s where he needs to be and no one will convince him otherwise. Bucky’s ma isn’t about to let him go off where he might catch his death of cold, and his whole family follows him back to New York just as they’d followed him to the heat of Arizona. 

Things stay pretty much the same until shortly after Bucky’s twenty-second birthday. He’s in his last year at Columbia, where he’s studying mechanical engineering. It’s April and, while spring has definitely arrived, the sun is still weak and the breeze still cool. Bucky’s tucked up into a thick jacket and is wearing gloves and a knit cap that his Bubbe made him. Locals look at him askance, as they’re out in force in shorts and t-shirts. And while 65 may feel wonderfully warm to New Yorkers after a long, hard winter, Bucky can’t begin to strip his layers until it’s  _ at least  _ 70\. His closest friends know the reasons Bucky stays bundled up, but he lets acquaintances blame his odd habits on the thinning of his blood from too many years spent in the Arizona desert. 

He’s out at the park, joining his friends in enjoying the spring sunlight with a boisterous game of ultimate frisbee, when he starts to sweat. 

Bucky has never sweat in his life. At least, not without a fever. Not even the glaring summer heats of Arizona could make Bucky feel hot. He was perhaps the only child who relished the 105 degree days, and often he was the only child out playing. His sisters would join him for short spans, before they disappeared back into the air conditioned house. Bucky had mostly played on his own, in those days, enjoying being outside in shorts and a t-shirt, feeling pleasantly warm and content. It had, perhaps, been a lonely childhood, but it was better than the chronic hypothermia he’d faced in New York. 

Bucky doesn’t even realize what’s happening at first - he’s deep in the game of ultimate and generally doesn’t pay that much attention to his body unless it’s telling him that he’s dangerously cold. Shivers and teeth chattering are part of Bucky’s near daily experience. It’s when the shivering stops and his hands start to turn a little blue and he starts getting tired that he pays attention. 

The game comes to a stop and he jogs over for his water bottle. Imani, one of his friends, comes up besides him and frowns. She’s got dark skin, a multitude of braids, a heart the size of New York, and a mind so sharp it could cut glass, and Bucky’s always a little bit in awe so her. They’ve known each other since freshman year and she was the one who called 911 for him when they went out drinking on New Year’s Eve and he’d stumbled into a snowbank. 

“Bucky, you’re  _ sweating _ !” She says incredulously. She lifts her hand to his face and her eyebrows shoot up. “You’re hot!”

“Why thank you,” he says playfully.

She rolls her eyes and bats at his shoulder. “I mean it Bucky, you feel really warm.” 

“I guess I feel a little hot,” Bucky says, though he doesn’t really have experience with that particular sensation. He unzips his jacket. 

“You’re all pink too,” Imani  says, a frown furrowing her brow. Bucky rubs at his forehead and is surprised when his hand touches his damp forehead. 

“Huh.” The stifling breathlessness he started feeling when he was running starts to grow. It’s a bit like sitting under his heat lamp, but more. 

“You should sit down.” Imani tugs insistently on his arm and he follows her to the cool shade of a tree. He tugs on the zip of the sweater that’s under his jacket. He’s starting to feel a little nauseous and dizzy and the air feels like soup. One moment, Imani’s tugging his jacket off and the next he’s waking up, flat on his back under the tree, his friends hovering anxiously overhead. 

“There’s an ambulance on the way,” Bernie says, eyes wide and anxious. 

“I’m okay,” he says, trying to sit up. Paul pushes firmly down on Bucky’s shoulders. 

“You fainted,” Paul says. “And you’re burning up.” 

Bucky sighs and flops back to the ground. His head is throbbing and his mouth is dry and parched. “Can I have my water bottle?” he asks, since his mollycoddling friends aren’t about to let him up. The bottle is pushed into his hands and he takes a few slow sips, water dribbling down his chin. He’s starting to feel a little better when he hears sirens. Feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment, Bucky groans and covers his eyes. It’s hardly the first time an ambulance has been called for him, but it doesn’t get any less mortifying with practice. 

They’re on the north side of Central Park, not far from the entrance, and it doesn’t take long for Bernie to flag down the paramedics. 

“What seems to be the problem, sir?” A young man, all tucked and tidy in his blue uniform, asks.

“I’m fine,” Bucky insists, “I just got a little overheated.”

“I’m not surprised,” the man said, smiling a little. “You’re wearing a lot of layers.”

Bucky blushes a little and moves to sit up. 

“He needs to see his regular doctor,” Imani insists, “at New York Presbyterian.” 

“This looks to be a simple cause of heat exhaustion, miss,” the other paramedic says, in what’s probably meant to be a soothing voice. Imani opens her mouth in what will probably be a quite impressive spiel about patient rights, but Bucky interrupts her before she can get going. Imani’s premed and she’s got a lot of opinions. 

“I have a complex mirroring syndrome,” Bucky explains with a sigh. He doesn’t like telling people, but unfortunately, Imani’s correct. Bucky will need to see his regular doctor and his ma’s insurance will cover the ambulance ride, which will save Bucky taxi fare later. He offers up his medical ID bracelet, flipping it face down so they can see the neat words engraved there. 

The man nods, face turning a little more serious. “Alright then, we’ll get you to the hospital.”

“What’s your name?” 

“Bucky Barnes. Uh - James Barnes, for the paperwork,” he adds hastily when he sees her taking the information down. 

“Alright Bucky, I’m Alice and this is Nathan” she says, “We’re just going to take your pulse and temperature and then we can get you to the hospital.”

They double team him, the man taking his temperature and Alice clasping her fingers around his wrist. Once they’re satisfied that he isn’t going to keel over, they try to convince him to let them carry him to the ambulance on a stretcher. Bucky might have to make dramatic trips to the hospital once or twice a year, but he’s got his pride, and he can definitely walk to the ambulance of his own volition. 

He  _ is  _ a little dizzy when he gets up, but Nathan lets him lean against him as they plod back to the road. Bucky says a hasty farewell to Bernie and Paul, but isn’t surprised when Imani insists on coming along with him. She piles his heavy layers into her backpack and catches up to them in a quick jog. 

This is, perhaps, the first time in twenty-two years that Bucky has been out and about in New York in only a tshirt and jeans. It’s a little thrilling, he’s not going to lie. Once he’s tucked up into the ambulance - not shivering despite the AC, the EMS officers insist on giving him fluids and Imani insists Bucky call his ma. Both are equally unpleasant endeavors. 

Luckily, his ma doesn’t pick up, so he leaves his usual message, “Hey ma, on my way to the hospital. No biggie, sure I’ll be out by tonight. I’ll call you if it’s anything serious.” His ma won’t approve of his casual voice message, but Bucky’s grown up being ambulance’d to various hospitals and he has to treat it like it’s normal or he’ll go nuts. And there’s no need to worry her, not yet, just because he’s swung into the opposite temperature range from his normal. Dr. Rothberg will let him know what’s going on. 

And - well. 

There’s a small part of Bucky that’s hoping this heat means his soulmate has finally come in from the cold, is finally ready to be found. 

*

Dr. Rothberg is perplexed and insists that Bucky spend the night, which means that Bucky has to call his ma back and leave another message. She won’t get it til the end of the school day - she’s vice principal over at Steve Rogers Memorial High School in Brooklyn. Bucky could call the main office, if it were an emergency, but it’s not. 

No one really understands Bucky’s chronic hypothermia, never really have. Some specialists had suggested that he might be suffering reverse mirroring, where he’d experience the opposite of what his soulmate was experiencing, but chronic heatstroke doesn’t make a whole lot more sense than chronic hypothermia does. The trouble really is that mirroring is more like an echo. A person doesn’t experience the illnesses and injuries of their soulmate precisely, but rather a less intense version of the condition. For Bucky to be suffering regular hypothermia it suggests that his soulmate is regularly frozen almost to the point of death. And that just doesn’t make any sense, not to anyone. 

Becca sometimes teased Bucky that his soulmate was probably a mutant whose superpower was freezing himself. That had actually been the running theory until Bucky has passed through puberty with no mutation of his own. Everyone knew that if one soulmate was a mutant, their other half almost always was too. 

It remains that there’s no ordinary explanation for Bucky’s condition. Bucky is therefore a little frustrated that Dr. Rothberg is so confused about the heatstroke. It’s not like Bucky’s body has ever done anything that made a whole lot of sense. But Bucky sucks it up and lets Dr. Rothberg run his tests. Thankfully, he’d had his laptop on him in the park (they’d been planning to go to a local coffee house to study afterwards), so he and Imani watch Netflix on the crappy hospital wifi. They make fun of the funny faces the actors are making when playback predictably skips and freezes. 

It’s just after five when Bucky’s family arrives, in their usual state of chaos and noise. 

“Bucky!” His ma yelps, diving in to place a hand across his brow. She frowns. “You’re  _ warm _ ,” she says, voice bemused. Of course, this creates a sudden influx of sisters crowding around his bed, pressing their hands to his face. Bucky rolls his eyes and sits back, well used to this kind of treatment. He’s got four younger sisters, all much younger than himself. His parents had presumably been too busy making sure he didn’t freeze to death when he was young to want any other children. Becca, the oldest of the girls, wasn’t born until after they’d moved to Arizona. Samantha and Elizabeth had followed in quick succession, but little Molly hadn’t been born until Bucky was fifteen. 

Bucky’s dad hovers in the background, though he manages to shoot Bucky a sympathetic smile. Once the girls have confirmed his ma’s assertion that Bucky’s skin is warm to the touch, his parents shoo them off the bed, allowing his dad and ma to come in for a hug. Imani, after greeting his sisters who are always thrilled to see her, says a quick goodbye, citing homework that Bucky knows she’s already finished. Bucky doesn’t blame her. His family can be a bit much on a good day and they’re all a little ridiculous when he’s in the hospital. 

“What happened?” His ma asks, grabbing a seat on the edge of his bed. Dark frizzy curls are escaping her work bun, and the harsh hospital lights make the lines around her eyes look darker. Bucky takes her hand and smiles reassuringly. 

“I’m not sure, actually. I was out at the park and I started to feel really warm, all of a sudden. I guess I got heat exhaustion?” Bucky shakes his head, still not completely believing it. “My temperature kept spiking for a couple hours, but Dr. Rothberg says it’s settled at 98.8 -” Bucky points to the monitors, where red numbers display his heart rate and temperature. 98.8 is a whole three or four degrees warmer than Bucky’s usual healthy temperature.  “And it’s pretty much stayed there since about two this afternoon.”

“But you’re okay?” His ma asks, over the voices of his sisters, who are already coming up with fantastical explanations for Bucky’s sudden warmth. 

“Better than I’ve ever been, actually.” Bucky smiles and squeezes his ma’s hand. He knows how much she worries. She’s spent his entire life worrying over him, making sure he’s stayed warm and protected. The lines around her eyes and the gray in her dark hair are his doing, for the most part. Her blue eyes - the ones she’d passed on to him, brim over with tears. “Don’t cry, ma. Dr. Rothberg says it’ll take me awhile to get used to running a normal temperature. Feels a bit like a fever t’me,” he soothes. 

“Is it going to last?” Bucky’s dad asks, sitting down behind his ma. Molly scrambles up into his lap. 

“No knowing, really,” Bucky says, frowning a little. “Depends on if whatever’s happened to my soulmate is permanent, I guess.” 

“No longer a popsicle, huh,” Becca teases, eyes glinting. She fifteen and a menace, too smart for her own good. She’s got his ma’s dark hair and his dad’s brown eyes, a crooked nose from a fight when she was in second grade. Bucky sticks her tongue out at her. 

“Becca! Don’t tease your brother!” Ma scolds. Bucky puts an appropriately hurt expression on his face, waiting til his ma’s back is turned to wink at her. She makes a face right back at him. 

It’s nice to be with his family. He hasn’t gotten to spend much time with them recently, too busy with his last semester of school. The last time he’d really gotten to spend time with them had been over his winter break and that was never much fun for him. During the coldest weeks of winter Bucky had to bundle up so much he was almost immobile. On a good day his temperature hovered just over 95 degrees. Falling under 95 degrees was the medical definition for hypothermia and it didn’t take much to tip Bucky over that edge. Winter had always been his least favorite season just because of how difficult it made things for him. 

It’s easy to let his family’s presence distract him from his lingering discomfort - he feels flushed and too warm, sticky and a little dizzy. Still, he’s glad when his dad leaves with his sisters. His ma settles into the chair beside the bed and opens her purse. She pulls out  _ the Hobbit _ . The spine is reinforced with duct tape and the dust cover is long since lost. A hundred different hospital rooms have been made home by his ma and this book. 

Somewhere in the midst of the dwarves colluding to make Bilbo Baggins as uncomfortable as possible, Bucky falls asleep. 

*

After a day of observation in which Bucky’s temperature is exceedingly normal and stable, he is dismissed from the hospital. His dad comes to pick him up and drive him back to campus. 

Bucky and and his roommate, Paul, share a tiny one bedroom in the housing set aside for Engineering students. It can’t even really be called a one bedroom - it’s more of a studio. If they had more time they’d probably be able to engineer something slightly more liveable out of the space, but they make do with a set of bunkbeds and a folding screen borrowed from Bucky’s bubbe. 

But there’s plenty of hot water and central heating is included in the rent, which is all Bucky has really ever required. They don’t have control over the temperature, but Bucky’s got quite a collection of space heaters. When the apartment’s too sweltering for Paul, he goes and crashes with his girlfriend and never, ever complains about the heat. 

Most of Bucky’s friends are rather modern - they’ve had relationships with people other than their soulmates. Common logic is that it’s a terrible idea that only leads to heartbreak and anguish, but a lot of younger people think that you don’t meet your soulmate ‘til you’re ready for them, and sometimes that means practicing with other people. Bucky sometimes wishes he felt that way. There have been days that it felt like that was exactly what he needed to distract himself from his constant discomfort. His friends have all joked that maybe all Bucky needed to warm up was a good lay. And then there have been days when Bucky wants to be with someone else out of pure spite. His soulmate’s controlled almost every aspect of his life since Bucky was three months old. 

But Bucky’s soulmate has always been so much a part of him that even on the worst days, when he hated his soulmate for what they were putting Bucky though, he never really thought of being with another. The doctors promise that when Bucky finally meets his match that they’ll have a strong bond - people with chronic mirroring syndromes almost always do. It primes your body for pairing, Dr. Rothberg has explained, because you’re already more aware of the bond than most people are.  

Paul blinks at Bucky in surprise when he walks through the door, wearing only a tshirt and jeans.  “Was there a sudden heatwave I’m not aware of?” Paul asked from their dinky kitchen table.

Bucky grins. He feels so fucking warm and it’s great. “Nah, my temperature went up - it’s actually a little warmer than usual now.”

“No kidding,” Paul says flatly, standing up. He puts a broad hand on Bucky’s cheek and Bucky bears it with good grace. People are forever touching his face. Paul’s eyes go wide. “Does that mean we can leave the space heater off tonight?” Bucky laughs and nods. 

“Fanfuckingtastic,” Paul beams. “Now help me with this equation for Dr. Jenkins’ class. It’s killing me.” 

Bucky sets his backpack down and joins Paul over one of Dr. Jenkins’ infamously impossible equations. 

* 

The last weeks of April speed by. It takes Bucky a while to get used to his new temperature. He keeps accidentally piling on too many layers or automatically turning on the space heater when he gets home from class. He’s too busy with his final project and papers to really give his soulmate much thought. Besides his new warmth, Bucky isn’t getting much in the way of mirroring. Occasionally his knuckles smart like he’s hit something and his muscles ache with workouts he hasn’t done, but those are the sort of things  _ normal  _ people get through the bond. There’s a low level fatigue coming through the bond as well, which is actually really annoying. Bucky doesn’t have time for lazing about in bed. He’s fucking graduating in less than a month and it seems like there’s a thousand and one things to do, so he powers through with what is probably way too much coffee. 

Things stay about the same until the first couple days of May, when Bucky keeps discovering large bruises and sore areas on his body that heal within minutes, which is fast even for mirrored injuries. But it’s not like his bond’s ever been anything even approaching normal, so Bucky ignores them and keeps going. Once he graduates he’ll have time to process this, to figure out what the fuck he feels, decide whether he wants to give looking for his soulmate another go. 

Bucky’s in the library when aliens start pouring out of the sky. He, like the rest of the students huddled with their noses in books, probably would have missed the whole thing. Except - there’s a sudden flurry of pain, like being punched and kicked over and over. There’s a sensation in his stomach like the feeling you get when a roller coaster plummets and it’s all making him a little dizzy. So he packs up his stuff and heads outside for a breath of fresh air. 

Columbia’s far enough away from midtown that Bucky can’t hear the screaming or see the flames - he’ll see all that later as the news replays everything incessantly. He can’t even make out what, precisely, is coming from the sky, only that is dark and ominous and comes in a swarm, like a hundred thousand hornets. 

He stands there longer than he’d really like to admit, gaping up at the sky over Stark Tower like a tremendous idiot. Once he finally regains his senses, he knows he needs to find cover - there’s a subway entrance only a couple blocks over, so he can get underground, out of sight. He makes his way there as calmly and quickly as he possibly can, but he keeps having to stopping to catch his breath or to wait til a new wave of pain subsides. 

He’s not thinking about it. 

He’s not thinking that his soulmate is probably out there, in the midst of all of this, getting hurt. He’s not thinking about how his arms and hands hurt like he’s punching, like he’s fighting. 

He’s not thinking about it. 

By the time Bucky reaches the subway station, panic is starting to build in the streets. There are cops on the road, hurrying people into buildings and down into the subway. The press of people and their stifling heat makes it hard for Bucky to breathe, but he  _ needs  _ to. He has to stay safe so his match can keep fighting. Bucky won’t,  _ can’t _ distract them. Bucky finds an empty corner and presses his back to the cool tiles. Sliding to the floor, Bucky clasps his head in his hands and curls up into a protective ball. He fumbles for his phone, only to discover he has no service when he finally manages to get it in hand. 

Bucky doesn’t think he’s ever been more scared in his life. Maybe when he’d been nine and he woke up in the hospital all by himself after a bout of hypothermia hit him at school. Maybe the time the cold almost killed him when he was six. But this is different. His body feels like it’s fighting - 

His soulmate is out there fighting and they might not survive those  _ things  _ in the sky. They might die, taking the small purple mark on Bucky’s inner wrist with him. It’ll bleed and scab over and leave nothing but a white scar - Imani ’s got a mark like, a mark that make people shake their heads in pity and pat her on her shoulder and struggle to find the right thing to say. 

Bucky doesn’t want that, he wants his match, he wants the person who’s going to complete him. He’s been waiting so long and he can’t lose him now, not when he’s so close. Bucky tucks his face into his legs, wrapping himself in a tight hug, and hopes. 

*

Bucky’s not sure how long they’ve been underground when a policeman comes to tell them that the area is clear. The bright sunlight makes Bucky’s eyes smart as he exits the station. He takes a few dizzied steps - his head aches and his ribs throb under his skin and he think he might have been bleeding at some point - when his phone starts going crazy. Pretty much everyone he knows has called or texted him in the last several hours. Bucky stumbles over to a bench, sits down and calls his ma. It’s his automatic way to deal with crisis, has been since he could talk, really. 

“Bucky, oh my god, Bucky are you alright?” His ma’s voice, panicked and frenzied, is the best thing he’s heard all day. 

“I’m fine,” Bucky assures. “I - I think my match was closer to the fighting. I’m a little banged up, but New York Presbyterian is gonna be swamped. I think I’m just gonna come home. Will you and dad pay for my uber?” 

“Of  _ course _ ,” his ma says emphatically. “You get yourself home safe and we’ll worry about the rest after that.”

“I will,” he promises. 

Of course, it’s easier said than done. The roads are an absolute mess and getting off the island is almost impossible. They end up having to go up Hudson Parkway, which is bumper to bumper traffic, and through Washington Heights and the Bronx and then down to Brooklyn. It takes four gruelling hours and the charge is ridiculous. But when Bucky stumbles out of the car in front of the familiar brownstone, his parents are waiting with open arms, his sisters crowded behind them. Bucky has never been so grateful for the overwhelming, overpowering, Barnes family group hug. 

His ma babies him all night, tucking him up under blankets on the sofa and feeding him his favorite foods and generally fussing over him. His sisters squabble over who gets to sit next to him, even Becca, which tells him all he needs to know about how worried they were. Bucky answers his texts and returns phone calls, reassuring everyone he’s fine, and reaching out to the people he hasn’t heard from. Bernie has an internship in midtown. Their phone keeps going to voicemail, until nearly 11 that night, when he gets a text that says simply  _ in the hospital, i’ll be fine _ . Bernie’s family is nearly as bad as Bucky’s, so he doesn’t press - he knows they’re being taken care of. 

Bucky stumbles up to bed around midnight, body aching like he’s about 80. The stairs creak and groan alongside his bones, and for once Bucky hates that his room is on the top floor. This rowhouse had been in Bucky’s family forfuckingever, so when they’d moved to Arizona they’d just rented it out. It wasn’t like Crown Heights was Williamsburg by any means, but his parents made pretty decent money off it, enough that his ma didn’t have to work when the girls were little. 

Bucky’s room is still made up like it was a couple weeks ago, space heaters standing by and curtains drawn tight to block any cold air that might ease through the old window panes. Tonight he pulls the curtains back and opens the window. It take some work - this window hasn’t been open since before Bucky was born, but once he gets it the cool spring breeze is exactly what he needs. The air smells like New York - exhaust and garbage and sweat - but he can also smell smoke in the air, probably drifting over from the disaster in midtown. 

It all feels surreal. Bucky lets his head hang out the window. There’s no screen, probably long lost or never put on in the first place. There’s cars honking and sirens wailing. Bucky puts his right hand over the spot on his left wrist, closes his eyes and breathes. He can feel his soulmate, on the other end of it, body sore and tired like Bucky’s, but mind awake and alert. He hopes his match is okay. He hopes they can feel Bucky thinking about them. 

Bucky retreats backs to his bed, leaving the window open. He makes a messy pile on the floor of the quilts he no longer needs and climbs under a single blanket. 

Falling asleep takes a while. The closer he gets to sleep the farther from his body he feels. 

It’ll be soon, Bucky thinks. They’ll meet soon. 

*

Ma makes challa french toast in the morning and lets them heap on as much whipped cream as they can manage. It descends into absurd competition quickly. Bucky and Molly win, of course, because Bucky’s definitely not above using his quarter-of- a-million-dollar engineering degree to figure out the best way to pile whipped cream on top of waffles.

The little girls watch cartoons for a while and then are herded out to play in their cramped backyard so the ‘grown ups’ can watch the news. Becca fights about being grouped with the kids, but dad is insistent. Dad’s protective in his own, quiet way. He wants them to stay kids as long as they can. Bucky thinks that’s sweet. 

So he’s squished between his parents on the couch, feeling young and loved and a little pathetic because he’s twenty-two and about to graduate college and be a real adult for the first time in his life and shouldn’t be cuddling with his parents, when they figure it out. 

And by  _ it _ Bucky means his entire life story. 

A couple news personalities are discussing the fight - showing clips of the major players and giving back stories, almost like they’re commenting on a sports game. They don’t manage to get a good clip of the sole woman or the guy who shoots arrows, but they pull out all the old crap about Tony Stark and the Hulk. Bucky’s dozing off against his dad’s shoulder, when they switch to a clip of the guy in the Captain America suit. 

His ma makes a disparaging noise, “Can’t believe they’re replacing Steve Rogers! Unbelievable!” 

Captain America is the hometown hero. Everyone in Brooklyn has a relative or a friend of a relative who went to school with him or sang in his barbershop quartet or marched in strikes he was a part of. Brooklyn holds Steve Rogers close and tight. Hell, his ma works at Steve Rogers Memorial high school in Brooklyn Heights. 

“Of course, everyone's been wondering about the man toting Captain America’s shield. Theories have ranged from credible to wildly absurd, but a statement has just been released from Stark Industries PR department! The story is difficult to believe, but all facts have been validated by the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. According to the press release, the new Captain America is in fact, not new at all. S.H.I.E.L.D claims that this is the very same Steve Rogers who saved the world some 70 odd years ago.” 

“That’s bullshit,” Bucky’s dad says, surprising him. Dad is usually the quiet one, the subdued one, hardly ever swears in front of any of ‘the kids’. He kinda gapes at him and his dad blushes, “I’m sorry. But do they really expect us to believe that?”

“It sounds impossible!” The news woman says, shaking her head, sending perfectly coiffed curls swinging. She feigns wide eyes and a shocked expression. “But apparently, when Captain America crashed the Valkyrie, saving the entire eastern seaboard, the water was so cold it preserved him. That, along with Erskine’s famous serum, saved Steve Rogers. He was discovered and woken up by S.H.I.E.L.D scientists in April.” 

Bucky’s ma’s hand goes tight around his. 

“Bucky,” she hisses, looking at him with wide eyes. “ _ Bucky _ , do you think - could it -”

“It  _ can’t _ be,” Bucky protests. “Soulmates are never more than 15 years apart - it’s not -”

“He was preserved. He was only 27 when he went under,” Bucky’s dad whispers. Both his parents have his hands in tight grasp. “And if he was frozen - all those years. It makes sense.”

“And your hypothermia stopped,” Bucky’s ma continued, “It stopped, right when they said he woke up. That’s - that’s not a coincidence.”

Bucky’s heart is pounding in his chest. He - he can’t believe it. How could Steve Rogers be his soulmate? He’s just - he’s just a kid from Brooklyn, not anybody special. 

But it makes so much sense. 

It explains the chronic hypothermia, the bruises that heal too quick, his aches and pains during the Battle of New York. 

It even explains why none of the private eyes they hired ever found him. 

And deep down, Bucky  _ knows.  _ It’s right, down in the marrow of his bones. The place where the cold came from for so many years sings with it and Bucky finds himself beaming. 

“Ma!  _ Ma! _ My soulmate!” He’s crushed in a sudden hug between his parents. 

“Mazel tov Bucky,” his ma whispers in his ears. “I’m so happy for you.” He can feel her tears on his neck and he hugs her a little harder. His parents have been waiting for this even longer than he has, every year a little more afraid that he’d spend the rest of his days fighting the cold, alone with a disastrous mirror syndrome that would never let him be warm. 

He feels so warm now, pressed between his parents, all kinds of warm. 

“My soulmate,” Bucky mumbles again, disbelieving. “I’m gonna meet my soulmate.”


	2. his isolation is confirmation of his desperation for healing hugs

Of course, it’s easier said than done. Everyone in the world wants a piece of Steve Rogers. They try everything they can think of - they call Stark Industries. Ma puts in a request for Steve to visit the school. One desperate night, Bucky even tweets at Tony Stark, trying to tell him. When he comes to his senses the next day and goes back to delete the message, he finds that he’s not even in the first hundred of people who have tried that. 

It’s two weeks after Bucky figured out who his soulmate is, and Bucky’s getting a little desperate. He had thought he was so close. He’s been waiting  _ so long _ . He barely manages to keep his mind on his last week of school. His friends notice and ask, but Bucky just shakes his head and mutters something about the attack and his friends back off. He feels a little guilty about it, but he doesn’t want to tell anyone. Not yet. He hasn’t even told his sisters. Even if Bucky did say something, he’s not sure anyone would believe him. 

Of course, Imani figures it out. She doesn’t say anything until the day after graduation - they’re all gathered at his parent’s house in Brooklyn for brunch (his ma makes the best kosher cure for a hangover in all five boroughs and Bucky’ll fight anyone who says otherwise). Even Bernie is there, looking tired and wobbling around on a pair of crutches. They didn’t get to finish their classes, but Columbia let them graduate with the rest of them.  It’s a slow morning, soft and content and warm in the best way. Until Imani corners him outside the bathroom. 

“C’mon, we need to talk,” she insists, tugging him after her. He follows her helplessly - there’s no fighting Imani when she’s like this. Closing the door firmly behind her, Imani forces them down onto the giant beanbag Bucky had got for his tenth birthday (it didn’t fit in his apartment). 

“Listen, I think your soulmate is Captain America.” Bucky gapes at her. “Hear me out - he was in the ice all that time while you -”

Bucky shakes his head and cuts her off. “No, I know. I mean, it makes sense.”

Imani nods, face earnest, clearly encouraging him to say more. 

“But I don’t know how to meet him,” Bucky tells her. He hasn’t been able to try very hard, but his ma has thrown herself neck deep into mission  _ meet Steve Rogers _ . “It’s impossible to get in touch with him. Honestly, at this point I feel like I should just go down to Stark Tower and wait til he shows up.”

“Why don’t you?” Imani  asks, voice perfectly reasonable. Bucky grinds to a halt. He can’t come up with a good reason not to try that strategy. It’s a little stalkery, but people have done a lot worse trying to meet their soulmates. 

“Okay,” he finds himself saying, “but we can’t tell my parents.”

Imani beams. 

*

That’s how Bucky finds himself on a series of buses on his way to midtown. Most of the subway lines are still down, though the city promises that they’re prioritizing their repair right after hospitals and essential roads. Tony Stark and Steve Rogers have been all over the news, helping with the clean up. 

Bucky may have a couple clips of Steve heaving slabs of concrete and moving rubble like it’s feather light. Bucky  _ really likes  _ the new uniform. Steve goes barefaced now, and Bucky has spent entirely too long memorizing the planes of his face. Some people say that they’re not attracted to their soulmate right away, even when it’s definitely a sexual match, but Bucky is decidedly not having that problem. 

Imani is chipper and bubbly, even though it’s barely nine. Bucky’s only halfway through his first cup of coffee and is wondering why he let Imani convince him to come out this early. Despite his morning cynicism, there’s a current of excitement running through Bucky’s veins. Everyone dreams of meeting their soulmate pretty much from the moment they understand the concept. But Bucky’s bond has been a bigger part of his life for a lot longer than most people’s are, prior to actually meeting their match. There hasn’t been a minute of Bucky’s life he hasn’t been feeling Steve on the other side. Bucky never had the luxury of forgetting. 

Bucky’s so excited, he forgets to be even a little bit reasonable. He is therefore not expecting the huge crowd of people (mostly girls) outside Stark Tower, waiting to get a glance of any of the newly minted Avengers. Luckily, Bucky’s got Imani. She pushes through the crowd with the ease of a true New Yorker, using elbows and feet to their advantage, clearing a quick path. She walks through the rotating door like they belong there, telling the doorman they’ve got a meeting with the Stark Internship Group. 

And then. 

_ And then _ , she walks straight up to the front desk, pausing briefly to pull a neat envelope out of her purse and puts it primly on the front desk. “Hello,” she says in her  _ bitch, best don’t argue with me _ voice, “My friend here is applying for the Stark Industries Engineering Internship. He’d like to speak to someone in charge.”

“Does your friend have an appointment?” The man at the front desk doesn’t look up from his crossword puzzle and sounds utterly bored. Imani  flicks her dark braids over her shoulder, getting ready for battle.

Bucky fucking loves Imani.  

“We  _ tried  _ to call ahead, but the phones were down.” At that the man does look him, face creasing into a practiced apologetic look. 

“Oh, yes. We have been having an issue with that. Unfortunately, I don’t think there’s anyone available -”

“That’s alright,” Imani  says cheerfully, picking up the envelope again. She gestures over to a waiting area made up of chairs that look like they probably belong in a modern art museum, “we’ll just wait over there! No rush, we’ve got all day!”

The man gapes and Bucky grins as he lets Imani tug him by the elbow over to the seating area. 

“Have I ever told you you’re the best,” Bucky asks. 

“Not recently,” Imani  smiles. She pats his cheek. “C’mon. I brought cards.”

*

So they spend most of the day camped out in the lobby of Stark Tower. It’s good people watching, if nothing else. There are the expected businessmen in neat suits, talking on their phones in hurried tones. But there also scientists and engineers in varying states of dishevelment. Some of them are grease stained, most have pencils behind their ears and look like they might attempt to solve global warming over their lunch break. 

Bucky knows the type. A lot of his best friends are like that. Bucky starts to think that he might actually like that internship, soulmate aside. When he says as much to Imani, she just grins knowingly and hands over the envelope. It’s got a copy of the resume he put together when he was applying for jobs this spring and a carefully edited cover letter that he could vaguely remember writing in the middle of midterms. He folds her into a giant hug and lets her pick the next card game which he knows that he’ll lose. Imani likes games that make your brain hurt and Bucky usually does his best to avoid them. 

Captain America hasn’t shown up by five, and neither have any of the people that Bucky “wanted” to talk to about the internship. The guy at the desk apologizes and says they can try their website. Instead, Imani drags Bucky back the next day. And the one after that. 

They’ve spent three days in Stark Tower’s lobby and have started coming prepared with laptops and packed lunches when finally,  _ finally  _ Steve shows up. The first sign of a change in their routine is an uptick in the volume of the screams outside, which Bucky doesn’t really notice. Yesterday, the front desk guy - Benjy, Bucky now knows - had brought Bucky a packet to fill out and apologised profusely for the fact that someone in charge of the program still hasn’t been down to see them. Benjy’s a good guy - he’s got a husband and two kids at home, has been working for Stark Industries for fifteen years. The packet has a series of challenging engineering problems. Bucky’s deep in a design for a self powered light bulb when Imani pulls urgently on his elbow. He looks up. 

And there’s Steve, standing just inside the doorway. He’s talking to a short brunette. They’ve both got a Five Guys bags in their hands, and Steve is smiling. Bucky’s breath catches in his throat. Imani pushes on Bucky’s shoulder urgently, chanting, “ _ Go, go, go! _ ” Bucky stumbles to his feet. He’s halfway across the lobby when he realizes he has no idea what he’s going to say. 

Steve has probably had hundreds of people come up and insist they’re his soulmate. People have probably pressed their skin to his, trying to incite the feeling you get when you first touch your match. 

No one tries to explain it. Sometime in their childhood, everyone asks a paired adult they know what it feels like. They always get a variant on  _ you’ll know it when you feel it _ . It had been different when Bucky asked his parents. But he’d been lying in a hospital bed, lips still blue from the latest case of hypothermia. They’d tried to tell him about the warmth in your belly, but Bucky didn’t have reference for warmth, or the thread that tied you to another person, but Bucky felt that every day. 

_ It’s just knowing _ , Bucky’s dad had finally said,  _ it’s knowing in your bones.  _

But Bucky doesn’t want to be another stranger who comes up and presses skin to skin without permission. He wants Steve to like him. So he doesn’t know what he’s going to say or do and his brain is running a hundred miles an hour and he keeps going, because he has been waiting for this is entire fucking life and it’s right there, it’s so goddamn close - 

And then he trips over his shoelace like a total dunce and he’s headed knee first toward the floor when two warm hands land on his shoulder. They’re separated by the thin cloth of Bucky’s shirt, but already he can feel it starting. His hand lands on Steve’s forearm and he  _ knows.  _

And his parents are right, there’s no way to describe it, except that every part of his body knows and is known, the same way every part of his body had once been cold and alone. 

His eyes meet Steve’s and god, they’re even more blue in real life. Steve’s jaw has dropped and his pupils are blown wide, just like Bucky’s, dopamine and oxytocin raging through their systems. 

“Hi.” Bucky says, an uncontrollable smile pulling at his cheeks. 

“Hi.”

“Oh man, wow this is great guys, but we need to get away from the door, or you know, the paps,” the brunette woman speaks quickly. Steve looks up and back and Bucky follows his gaze - there are people pressed up against the door and a sea of flashing cameras. Steve’s face goes serious, his arm coming up around Bucky and quickly guiding him further into the lobby, and then back towards the elevators behind Benjy’s desk. 

“Wait - uh, wait - my friend,” Bucky says, turning. Steve stops immediately. Imani’s jogging up to them, carrying Bucky’s bag as well as hers. She’s beaming. 

“Hello!” She says brightly. “I’m Imani.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Steve says, holding out his hand for her to shake. She takes it easily, not giving any sign that Steve is - well, who he is. 

“You too!” 

Suddenly Steve pales and he lets go of Bucky, turning around. “I didn’t even ask you your name,” he says apologetically, “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t expecting - ”

“I’m Bucky,” Bucky interrupts. 

Steve stops, smiling. “Bucky,” he says, like he’s tasting the name on his tongue. It does  _ things _ to Bucky’s insides. “It’s really good to meet you, Bucky.”

“You too,” Bucky says, stepping a little closer, wanting Steve to put his arm around him again. He wants to push up as close as he can, get as much of the skin to skin contact that is making Bucky’s bones  _ sing _ . 

“And I’m Darcy!” The brunette adds, voice impatient, “And now we all know each other, we really should -” she points at the elevators. Steve nods briskly and starts walking that way again. He doesn’t put his arm around Bucky again, but he keeps glancing Bucky’s way, like he can’t believe his eyes. Bucky knows the feeling. 

The elevator ride is a little awkward. No one seems to know what to say and it just keeps dragging on. Bucky read somewhere that Stark Tower is some 100 odd floors, but it’s different knowing and fidgeting awkwardly in a too quiet elevator. The elevator comes to a slow stop around floor 70 and the silence is interrupted by an oddly precise voice. 

**Captain Rogers,** the voice says,  **Your guests will have to agree to a background check and sign a non-disclosure agreement if they are to be permitted on the personal floors** . 

Steve’s mouth falls into a frown, and he quickly apologizes, “I’m so sorry Bucky, I didn’t realise you’d have to…” Steve trails off, looking at Bucky with such open concern on his face. 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. I understand.” 

“Thank you,” Steve says, voice earnest. 

There’s a moment of silence. 

“I don’t mind either,” Imani adds, amusement lining her tone. Bucky glances back at her and she winks at him. 

“Thank you for being so understanding,” Steve says insistently, and it’s just so  _ sincere _ that it’s a little overwhelming. Steve looks up at the ceiling, “JARVIS, did you get that?”

**Yes, Captain Rogers. I will have Ms. Potts prepare the paperwork.** And with that the elevator starts to move again. 

“This is exciting,” Darcy bounces cheerfully on her toes as she talks, “It’s always so exciting when soulmates meet, you know?” 

Bucky looks quickly at Imani and finds her biting her lip, staring a little sadly at the ground. He takes her hand and squeezes it. This must be so hard for her, Bucky thinks, eyeing her carefully. Imani never acts like it’s a big deal, the scarred mark on her wrist, but Bucky knows it hurts her. He can’t imagine. Even on the worst days, piled under a hundred blankets in yet another hospital bed, Bucky had never wished away his soulmate. He thinks the worst thing must be not knowing - never knowing anything about your soulmate. 

Imani had told him, one night when they’d all been drinking, what it was like. The worst pain she’d ever felt, she told him, and that wasn’t even counting the injuries. Imani’s arm and leg had been in a cast for months. A car crash, they guessed. 

Imani was seven. 

And yet, she’s here, with him, helping him get what she can never have. He squeezes her hand a little tighter and she tightens her grip in response. 

Finally, the elevator doors open. Bucky steps out eagerly, curious what the residential floors of Stark Tower look like. It’s actually pretty disappointing. It looks like a fancy hotel, everything clean and without personality. It’s a little better when they step through the bland living room into an open kitchen, but that may mostly be the people. 

Tony Stark is sitting at the breakfast bar with what looks like the remnants of a toaster strewn around him. Bucky’s an engineering student. Actually, he’s a real engineer as of four days ago. It would be bizarre if he didn’t have a little bit of an intellectual crush on Tony Stark. Bucky abruptly wonders if Steve can get him into Stark’s workshop. 

Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries is also there, leaning over the breakfast bar and flipping through papers. She’s wearing a pair of cut off shorts and a button down that looks too big to be hers and it kind of stuns Bucky. She’s always so perfectly poised and coiffed in public, he would have imagined she’d be the same at home. 

Both of the tremendously intimidating people look up, smiles on their faces. 

“Cap! Is this the soulmate? He’s a little young for you, are you sure the bond wasn’t addled by the ice?” Stark speaks a mile a minute and Bucky almost doesn’t catch the words. But when he does, he flinches. The iced bond has been his lifetime companion and the cold isn't far enough gone that he’s ready to hear other people talk about it like that. “I would have thought you’d have to go by the senior living association.”

Steve has also gone all stiff and stilted in a way he wasn’t before, despite everything. 

“Hush, Tony,” Ms. Potts says, coming closer. “We’re so happy for you, Steve. Congratulations.”

Steve smiles, but it’s a little awkward. Bucky frowns, wondering about it. Steve seems so much more ill at ease than he did before. The bond kind of  _ itches  _ in Bucky’s belly with Steve’s discomfort. 

“Thank you, Ms. Potts,” Steve’s voice is polite and formal, even more than when he’d introduced himself to Imani.

“I gotta jet,” Darcy interrupts, jabbing an elbow into Steve’s side. “Jane will kill me if her fries are cold. Good luck!” She darts back out the way they came and Steve seems to get even more awkward with her absence. 

“I’m sorry to have to do this now,” Ms. Potts says, turning to Bucky and Imani. “But I have to get you to fill these papers out.” She taps a long elegant finger against a stack of documents on the breakfast bar. 

“Gotta make sure you aren’t frauds out to kill Captain America, y’know,” Stark smirks, “or me. You’d be surprised how many people attempt bond fraud to get in on the ground floor of Stark Tower.” 

“We already touched,” Steve insists, voice like steel. Stark just shrugs. Stark doesn’t have a mark, Bucky remembers abruptly. People have used that to attack him for as long as Bucky can remember. Bucky rubs his own mark. The purple flesh is just slightly raised, like a mottled birthmark. The mark is perfectly circular and stays the same size all your life, so that when you’re a baby it covers your entire wrist but as an adult it’s no bigger than the size of a small watchface. Not everyone is born with their mark, of course, as they appear when your soul mate is born. 

“There’s a combination of drugs that can mirror the effect,” Stark dismisses, waving Steve’s words off. 

People who don’t have marks say that, sometimes. Bucky’s read articles trying to prove it. But there’s never anyone on those projects who has a soulmate. People who have bonds  _ know _ . There’s no faking what Bucky felt when he touched Steve. Bucky feels bad for Stark. It would be such a lonely life, without a bond. 

“Tony,” Ms. Potts says, voice sharp, “We’ve talked about this.” 

Stark huffs, but turns back to his toaster parts, mumbling something under his breath. Steve’s shoulders go tight and Bucky can feel the tension thrumming through him. Without thinking he reaches out and grabs Steve’s hand. Steve starts and looks down at their clasped hands. When he looks up there’s this adorable smile on his face, all shy and quietly pleased. 

Imani and Bucky sit down on the spindly bar stools and are handed pens that probably cost more than Bucky’s entire wardrobe. The paperwork is dull and Bucky has to make himself focus on what he’s actually signing. Legalese is so not his thing. Once they finish, Ms. Potts scoops up the papers and herds a distracted Stark out of the room. 

And then it’s just Steve and Bucky. 

And Imani who, bless her, promptly says, “I should probably go, let you two get to know each other. Don’t forget to call your mom, Bucky.”

Bucky pulls her into a tight hug. “You are the best friend a person could ever ask for, you know that?”

“I can stand to be reminded,” she retorts, patting him affectionately on the back. She shakes Steve’s hand again, grabs her backpack, and leaves. 

And then it really is just Steve and Bucky. 

And it’s really fucking awkward is what it is. 

“I - uh, my room’s down here,” Steve mumbles as he rubs the back of his neck. “Nobody’ll disturb us.”

“Sure,” Bucky agrees, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. 

“Do you need to call anyone?” Steve asks as he leads Bucky down a wide hallway. 

“In a while. My ma will worry if I’m not home by six,” he explains. And then, realizing how that sounds, hurriedly adds, “I’m just livin’ there temporarily. I just graduated, and I’m still waiting to hear from jobs, y’know.”

“Oh yeah? Where did you go to school?” Steve opens a wooden door, but his eyes are on Bucky’s face, bright with interest. 

“Columbia.” Bucky lets a little pride seep into his voice. He’d worked damn hard to get into Columbia and then to do well once he got there. It’d been especially difficult given how much school he’s missed, over the years. When he’d been really little, back in elementary school before they moved south, he’d sometimes missed weeks because it was too cold for him to leave the house. 

“What did you study?” He holds the door so Bucky can precede him, which is kind of ridiculously charming. This room also looks a bit like a ritzy hotel. It’s actually two rooms, a little sitting area and a bedroom that Bucky can see through an open door. It’s bigger than the apartment he shared with Paul. 

“Mechanical Engineering.” 

Steve whistles. “Wow. That’s impressive.”

Bucky blushes a little, scuffing his shoe against the lacquered hardwood floors. He’s not usually shy about this. He’s damn proud of his achievements, but something about hearing the naked admiration in Steve’s voice and feeling echoes of warm pride in his belly makes Bucky feel a little self conscious. “Thanks,” he says. “Now I just have to get a job.”

“Is it hard to find engineering jobs?” There’s honest concern in Steve’s voice, “Because I can talk to Tony if that would help.”

“No! I mean, that’s really nice. I just - I don’t want to get a job cause I’m your soulmate. I want to get a job because I deserve it.”

There’s a sudden surge of emotion along the bond, not clear enough for Bucky to make sense of it really, but overwhelmingly positive. Steve’s smiling at him, and he smiles with his whole body. Bucky grins back. 

“Do you want to sit?” Steve offers, waving at the sleek leather armchairs. “Oh, I didn’t offer you anything to drink! Are you thirsty? Or hungry?”

One day, they might be able to tell that across the bond. Some couples claim they can. Most say it’s just strong emotion and really intense physical sensations, but people with particularly strong bonds can sometimes get more than that. Bucky already knows his and Steve’s bond is going to be stronger than most. He’s known that since he was five years old. 

“I’m alright,” Bucky says with a smile. He and Imani had brought sandwiches. He remembers abruptly that Steve had come back to the Tower with a Five Guys bag in his hand. Bucky’s not sure where it went in all the commotion. “Didn’t you have a Five Guys bag?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s in the kitchen.”

“I don’t mind if you eat.”

“Oh, uh, it’s alright. Just - leftovers.” The words lay funny on the bond and it takes Bucky a minute to realise it’s because Steve is lying. He frowns, not sure why Steve would lie about something like that. He glances up and Steve’s flushing and looking away. “I have to eat a lot. Because of the serum,” Steve blurts out. “It’s just second lunch. It’ll hold.”

Bucky relaxes, glad Steve told him the truth and nods. Then adds, “Oh shit. I’m gonna put on a bunch of weight sympathy eating aren’t I?”

“Oh! No. I’ll uhm - I sometimes forget, but I’ll be better about it, I promise.”

“I’m just teasing,” Bucky says softly. Tentatively he takes a seat in one of the armchairs. It’s honestly a little forbidding with how black and sleek it is. Seeming just as apprehensive as Bucky, Steve grabs the armchair opposite. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Steve’s nod is a little stilted and an awkward silence follows in it’s wake. They both attempt to break it at the same time. 

“So tell me -”

“I should probably -”

They both fall silent and then try to tell the other to go first, but Steve is particularly insistent and Bucky is starting to sense the steel in Steve’s spine. “I was just gonna say that I should probably warn you that my family is - uh, really enthusiastic.”

Bucky is completely surprised at the sudden happy anticipation that drops into his belly and races across Steve’s face. “Yeah?” Steve says encouragingly. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, settling into it. “I’ve got four sisters. They’re all a lot younger. And my ma and dad are a little protective of me, just cause of -” Bucky breaks off, not sure he wants to address the cold yet. 

“Because of?” Steve asks. Steve must sense something along the bond, because his voice is soft and he’s clearly ready to back off if Bucky doesn’t want to talk about it. But it’s going to come out eventually. It’s better if Bucky can control what’s said. 

“I had a lot of mirroring,” Bucky starts, “I mean. The situation’s sort of unique, because of -” 

Bucky can’t make the words come out. He’s not sure how to explain it in a way that doesn’t sound like he’s blaming Steve for his cold and lonely childhood. 

But Steve puts it together. “Oh God, the  _ ice _ .” Steve is visibly distraught, hands clasped tightly in front of him and elbows propped on his knees. His face crumples with distress and his eyes are so sad. 

Bucky nods. 

“I’m so sorry. Bucky - I can’t even imagine -”

“I got hypothermia a lot,” Bucky explains. “Even during the summer. I had to stay bundled up and I couldn’t really go outside during the winter.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve whispers again. “I - I didn’t know. I didn’t think I’d survive. And...I didn’t have a mark, before. It was just  _ there  _ when I woke up.”

Bucky blinks and sit back because, fuck, yeah. He’d forgotten that. And that means that Steve’s only known he has a soulmate for about a month. Which is really hard for Bucky to wrap his mind around because Bucky’s the complete opposite. He’s known since day one that his match was out there, somewhere. Fuck, Bucky even knew he was somewhere cold. That was a lot more than most people got. 

“Oh.” His voice comes out sounding a little dejected. He’d always thought that his soulmate would be just as eager to meet him as Bucky has been to meet them. But it doesn’t really sound like that’s how Steve feels. 

“Oh no, that sounds bad. It’s not that I’m not happy. I’m so happy. I just never thought it’d happen to me.” A little tension eases in Bucky’s belly and he offers an understanding smile. 

“No, I get that. It must be a lot to get used too, all at once. I’ve known since I was a kid - my mark appeared as soon as I was born. It’s always been there.” Bucky rubs absent minded fingers over it. Steve’s eyes track the motion. 

“Can I see it?” The question is hesitant, almost shy. Bucky offers his wrist, palm up and open. Steve catches it, cradling it like a baby bird in his cupped hand. With his other hands he touches it, featherlight and careful. Bucky gasps, a surge of sensation swirling through him. 

It’s not quite arousal, but it’s close. Bucky doesn’t really have words for it - it’s like  _ emotional  _ arousal, the mental equivalent of wanting to be as close as possible to another person. 

“Oh,” Steve whispers. His fingers pull away from the mark and Bucky resists the urge to grab Steve’s hand and force it back. For a minute they stay perfectly still, Bucky’s wrist in Steve’s long fingered grip. They both pull back in the same moment, oddly synchronized. Bucky’s hand feels strangely warm, a soft tingling on the surface of his mark. The silence draws on until it hangs heavy between them.  

Bucky wants badly to be closer to Steve but he doesn’t know how to make that happen. Imani would tell him to woman up and just do it because Steve is probably feeling the same thing. The desperate need to touch starts slow and then speeds up and can last anywhere from days to months. They won’t want to be out of each other’s sight for a while to come, while the thread that ties them together spins itself into a rope. 

“Can we sit on the sofa?” 

Steve nods jerkily and gets to his feet. It’s awkward, because for all that they’re soulmates and the rest of their lives are irrevocably intertwined, they’re little more than strangers. Bucky takes a deep breath and sits down right beside Steve, thigh touching thigh. The contact makes Bucky shiver. 

“Tell me about what you studied in school?” 

Bucky grins and he’s off. He loves engineering - he didn’t just study it because engineers make good money. When he was a kid, stuck indoors for weeks on end, he’d build intricate cities and rudimentary machines out of legos. So he tells Steve about the pleasure of inventing, of solving a problem or making things easier for people. He rambles on and on about the exciting innovations being made in robotics and how he was thinking about a graduate degree in computer science so he could work on advanced robotics, but it might also be cool to study aeronautics and work with spaceships and astronauts. Bucky doesn’t realize how long he’d been talking until his voice starts to rasp. 

“Let me get you some water,” Steve says with a smile. He gets up and goes through the open door to the bathroom and there’s this sudden tremendous wave of shame and inadequacy along the tentative lines of the bond. It’s so overwhelming and surprising that Bucky gasps, hand flying to the base of his ribs where the growing bond itches. He’s on his feet before he realizes what he’s doing, stumbling after Steve. He stops in the open bathroom door. Steve’s hands are braced on an immaculate countertop, shoulders hunched around his ears and quivering. Two long steps and Bucky can put his hand on Steve’s shoulder. 

“Steve, what’s wrong?” Bucky’s voice cracks, because the feelings are stronger now that they’re touching. Steve straightens up, tries to brush tears away from his cheeks before Bucky can see, but there’s a giant mirror in front of them and Bucky can easily see Steve’s ruddy cheeks and red eyes. 

Bucky’s mother lies firmly in a particular camp of mothering. She believes that most problems can be solved with a hug. Any sort of crisis in Bucky’s life has been accompanied by hugs - tight ones and soft ones, crowded ones and private ones. His dad once admitted that he hadn’t really been a hugger before he met Bucky’s ma, but that he’d had a firm and thorough education in the art of hugging everything better. Bucky’s not his ma, he can’t say everything she can with just arms and the press of a body, but he can  _ try. _

Pulling Steve into a hug is a little bit like trying to hug a brick wall. He resists and Bucky can’t make him budge, so he steps in a little closer and just puts his arms around him. Steve is stiff at first, but after a couple breaths his muscles begin to loosen and he melts into the hug. Steve’s arms come around Bucky and hold him tight to Steve’s chest. Bucky can’t say that he minds. 

“It’s okay,” Bucky mumbles, tucking his head under Steve’s chin. “Whatever’s bothering you, we can figure it out. We’re meant for each other, we’re gonna spend the rest of our lives together. Won’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”

“It’s silly. It’s not important.”

“Of course it’s important,” Bucky insists, hugging a little tighter. “Everything you feel is important to me.”

There’s a soft warmth in Bucky’s belly, gentle and hesitant and wondrous. He can’t tell if it’s coming from Steve or himself. 

“You’re so smart,” Steve muffles his words in Bucky’s hair and the intimacy of it is almost too much for Bucky to bear. He’s been waiting  _ so long _ . “And you know so much. I didn’t even finish high school.” Steve’s voice is dark with condemnation, as if not finishing high school is a terrible sin. 

“So? Just because you don’t have a degree doesn’t mean you aren’t smart. Fuck, Steve, people teach classes about you -  _ greatest strategic mind of the 20th century _ . My friend Bernie took it in freshman year.”

“What?” Steve startles, pulling back so they can see each other’s faces. Bucky immediately misses the contact. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you about that. So you didn’t finish high school. If it’s important to you, you can get your GED now.”

“My what?” 

“Your GED - it’s, uh, like getting your high school diploma ‘cept you study on your own terms. It’s a test you take and then you get your degree. Lots of people do it that way.” 

Hope, Bucky discovers, feels like a sunrise in his belly. He pulls Steve back into the living room by the hand, and Steve follows. When Steve has sat back down on the couch, Bucky carefully considers the cushion he’d been sitting on before and squishes himself onto the cushion Steve’s on, instead. Steve makes a surprised sound and stares kinda wide eyed at Bucky before smiling and putting his arm around him. Bucky pushes in close. 

“Will you tell me about when you were a teenager?” Bucky requests. 

*

They end up talking for hours. Bucky had been so worried, in that first awkward hour, that things would be stilted and uncomfortable for a long time to come. But it turns out, all Steve really needed to open up was a hug, an invitation, and a non-judgemental ear. 

There are things he’s not saying, but then there are things Bucky’s not saying either. They can tell when the other is talking around something, a feeling that is like walking around a puddle in Bucky’s body, and they don’t push. And it’s nice, knowing that there are more things to explore and knowing that they won’t talk about them until they’re ready. 

Steve’s deep in a story about a drag queen named Dorothy who used to watch him while his ma was at work (how did Bucky not know the twenties were so exciting?) when Bucky’s phone rings. It’s the song he’s got programmed for his ma and Bucky glances down at his watch and swears. 

Somehow it’s already 6 o'clock. He has no idea how that happened. Fumbling in his pocket for his phone, Bucky shoots Steve a reassuring grin. Finally, Bucky gets his hands on it and quickly swipes to answer the call. 

“Hi ma!” 

“You said you’d be home for dinner,” his ma reprimands, though her voice is fond. 

“I’m sorry - I meant to call, I just. I’m at Stark Tower. With Steve.”

His ma drops the phone. He can hear it hit the kitchen floor and his ma scrambling to pick it up again. 

“You’re with Steve? Steve Rogers?” His ma asks, her tone emphatic. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says a little sheepishly. He puts his free hand on Steve’s knee, feeling a little nervous energy running across the bond. 

“And how’d you manage that?”

“Imani and I camped out at Stark Tower for a couple days,” Bucky admits. There’s a beat of silence and Bucky can almost hear the gears turning in his ma’s head. 

“Well is he coming for dinner or should I bring a bag over for you?” Bucky laughs, gleeful. He really fucking loves his ma. 

“Lemme ask,” he mumbles, tucking the phone against his neck and looking up at Steve. Steve’s wide eyed and surprised looking, so Bucky guesses he heard his ma’s question. “My family’s a lot,” Bucky says, “I won’t be offended if you wanna wait a while before dealing with all of them, but there’s no way you’re not meeting my ma tonight, sorry.”

“I - um,” Steve hesitates, puts his hand over Bucky’s on his knee and tangles their fingers together. 

“Let’s wait,” Bucky offers. “This is all pretty fast, huh?” 

Steve smiles at him, sweet and soft, and Bucky feels a wave of gratitude across the bond. Bucky picks the phone back up. 

“I think we’re gonna spend the night here,” Bucky tells his ma, “So if you could pack me a bag? And - maybe don’t tell the girls yet?”

“Alright honey. I’ll pack you some clothes and a tooth brush. Anything else you need? Your laptop? Charger? Condoms?”

“Ma!” Bucky yelps, cheeks going pink. He glances over at Steve - his cheeks have also reddened, but his lips are quirking like he’s suppressing a grin. Bucky gives him a little glare, and Steve breaks and chuckles under his breath. “We just met!” 

“You’re young, you’re soulmates. Heaven knows your dad and I didn’t wait -”

“ _ Ma! _ ” Bucky’s voice cracks on the protest. 

“Alright, alright,” he can hear his ma’s smile. “I’ll be there in an hour and a half. Do I have to do anything special to get in?”

“I’ll ask.” 

But before he can, Steve says. “I’ll call the front desk now. What’s your ma’s name? They’ll need a photo ID to confirm her identity.”

“Winifred Barnes,” Bucky tells him and then relays the information to his ma. 

“Are you hungry?” Steve asks once Bucky’s hung up and abruptly Bucky is  _ starving.  _ He narrows his eyes. 

“Is that me or you?” Bucky asks. Steve rubs the back of his neck ruefully. 

“Sorry. I didn’t eat my second lunch.”

“I suppose you did warn me,” Bucky stands stretching. He pushes his hands toward the ceiling and arches his back, closing his eyes. Steve and he have been sitting on the couch for  _ hours _ . Heat flares in Bucky’s stomach and he opens his eyes. Steve is staring at him, eyes a little dark and hungry. Bucky swallows. 

He sort of expects Steve to apologize and get awkward, the way he’s been most of the day, but Steve just meets his eyes and smiles. A flush builds in Bucky’s cheeks and he looks away. Steve walks over and takes Bucky’s hand in his, gives a gentle tug and starts walking towards the door. 

Bucky didn’t know holding hands could feel so good. 

The kitchen is empty when they walk in, hands clasped between them. Bucky doesn’t want to let Steve go for the other man to cook, but he untwists his hand and hops up on a stool in front of the breakfast bar anyway.

“Will you tell me about your ma?” 

Steve’s shoulders hunch a little and griefs roars through the base of Bucky’s ribs, soaring up and flooding his lungs. 

“ _ Oh _ ,” he whispers. 

“She was the best woman I ever knew,” Steve says, opening the refrigerator and distinctly not looking Bucky’s way. “She’d have given her last breath to make things easier for someone else, you know?” Steve’s voice is losing the scripted quality Bucky hadn’t even realized was there, vowels loosening and consonants softening and it makes something in Bucky open up. He somehow knows that Steve hasn’t talked to anyone about his ma in a really long time. “She never said no to anybody - not when it was our last dollar or the last food in the ice box. She treated everybody exactly the same, didn’t matter where they came from or what they looked like.” 

Steve turned, hands full of vegetables and he set them down on the bar and went rummaging in the cupboards, returning promptly with a knife and a cutting board. Steve clangs about quite a bit in the kitchen, but he keeps talking as he cooks. Bucky’s ribs cradle the growing bond and he revels in the comfortable fondness Steve is falling into. 

“She worked so hard to make things better for me and for everyone. She never stopped, not ever, not ‘til the very end,” Steve’s grief chokes them both for a minute. Water runs into a pasta pot and Bucky tries to send comfort along the bond. Steve’s hand flies to the hollow of his ribs, so Bucky thinks it gets there all right. “She was my best friend.”

“She sounds amazing,” Bucky affirms softly. Steve glances up from where he’s setting the water to boil, and smiles at him. 

“I wish you could have met her.” 

“Me too.”

They fall silent then, but it’s a comfortable sort of silence. Bucky props his chin in his hands and watches Steve cook. Steve hums under his breath as he chops vegetable and tosses bacon into a pan. There’s a sort of wonder echoing over to Bucky that he can’t really make sense of until Steve says, “I can’t get over how much food there is now. And so many fruits and vegetables. Ma and I never had this much, when I was growing up.”

And though Steve feels warm and heavy, it hits Bucky like a punch in the stomach. He’s somehow not thought about it, not when Steve was telling stories about being a teenager or when he was talking about his ma. 

“Seventy years,” he blurts out. Steve’s muscles go tight and Bucky’s follow in kind. 

Steve looks at him warily. “Yeah.”

Bucky gets up from his stool and circles around the island. Steve puts the knife down and Bucky walks up into Steve’s space. They’re close enough that Bucky can feel Steve’s body warmth, but not so close that they’re actually touching. Bucky has to lift his chin to meet Steve’s gaze. 

“That must be really scary.”

Something in Steve loosens so dramatically that Bucky can feel the uncoiling of tension in his own body. 

“It is,” Steve admits and Bucky presses closer, so that their chests press together and he can feel the steady beat of Steve’s heart against his. Steve’s arms come around him a little easier this time. 

“I’ll help you,” Bucky promises. “With whatever you need, even if it seems silly.”

“Can you help me look things up on the computer? The SHIELD agent said I could, but…” Bucky can feel Steve’s shame, a thick sort of slime coating the connection between them. 

“Of course I can.”

Steve’s arms squeeze him a little tighter and the slime backs away. Bucky smiles into Steve’s chest. 

Sometimes people talk about the sensation of the bond as being unnatural, that they make physical what should be purely psychological. But it doesn’t feel unnatural to Bucky. As a child he’d sometimes worried that the bond would be just as intense and painful as his mirroring experience. 

He can remember crying to his ma one winter night, stuck in yet another hospital bed, that it would always hurt. His ma had told him that mirroring stops, once you touch your soulmate the very first time, that  _ feeling  _ and  _ sensation _ replaces the echoes. Echoes were supposed to hurt, she’d told him, otherwise how were you supposed to know you weren’t whole?

This isn’t painful at all. Even when Steve’s grief for his mother had poured across the raw path of their brand new bond, there had been a sort of satisfaction to it. It felt  _ right  _ to know Steve, to feel Steve. 

Bucky’s thoughts return to the seventy years - a lifetime - that Steve spent in the ice. Bucky’s never been one for history, but there’s some things everyone knows. It occurs to him suddenly and he pulls back a little, so he can look at Steve’s face. 

Bucky’s not sure how to ask the question, but he can tell that whatever Steve is feeling through their bond is making him worried, so Bucky just pushes ahead. “When you were a kid, uh, people who had same gender bondmates were -”

“The bonds were considered to be platonic,” Steve finished. “But not everybody thought that way. I knew they could be sexual or romantic. People fought for that, y’know, the right for their bond to be valid.” Steve’s smiling crookedly, a sad nostalgia engulfing them both. “People fought for a lot of things, then.”

Bucky nods and tucks himself back into Steve. “I just wanted to make sure.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Steve’s voice goes playful and  Bucky finds himself blushing. 

“Uhm -” Bucky fidgets a little. 

It’s not that sex is a foreign concept to Bucky, except in the fact that he’s never slept with someone. But that’s most people's experience, even now. There are the religious reasons of course, and the bullshit about needing to be pure for the bond to take, but for Bucky the reasoning that always made the most sense was that sex just wasn’t as good with other people. Intimacy could never be as bold or bright when it was with someone who wasn’t your other half. Bucky’s never really wanted to be with anyone but the right person, especially when he knew his other half was out there, waiting, cold and lonely just like him. 

Now he feels a little out of his depth. He wants a sexual relationship with Steve - he doubts there’s anyone anywhere who could  _ not  _ want a sexual relationship with Steve - but he has absolutely no clue how to get there. 

Steve must feel his nerves, because he backs off. He rubs one large hand up and down Bucky’s back and Bucky shivers a little. 

“I think we’re on the same page,” Steve says softly. 

“Good,” Bucky replies, pressing a little closer. He feels supremely aware of Steve’s body, but the awareness doesn’t feel as awkward as it might have even a few minutes ago. They’re on the same page. They want each other.  For a little while they just stand there in each other’s arms and it’s so strange because with anyone else in the world this would be stilted and uncomfortable. 

People don’t get to know each other that quickly. It takes time to build relationships and people don’t meet and then several hours later stand in an embrace for an extended period of time. But Steve is his other half and parts of it feel so easy and natural. Steve and Bucky belong together. 

“Are you going to keep cooking?” Bucky asks a moment later. “Cause you’re  _ starving! _ ” 

Steve laughs, warm and surprised sounding. “I thought you couldn’t tell if that was me,” Steve pulls back slowly, smiling down at him. 

Bucky grins, “I’ve never been hungry like this. I’m guessing it’s at least partly your fault.”

Happiness running both ways across the bond is perhaps the best thing Bucky has ever felt. 


	3. are you holding back your fondness due to his unmanly blondness?

JARVIS announces Bucky’s ma just as Steve and Bucky are arguing over who’s going to do the washing up. 

“So who is Jarvis exactly?” Bucky asks once Steve acknowledges the message. He’s used Steve’s distraction to get started on the pasta pot and when Steve turns back around, Bucky can feel his affront across the bond. It makes him grin. 

“I was going to get that,” Steve insists. 

“You cooked, I’ll clean. Only fair. Now, tell me about Jarvis.” 

Steve grumbles a little under his breath and Bucky ducks his head to hide his smile. 

“JARVIS is a…computer, I guess? Tony called him an artificial intelligence, but I’m not exactly sure what that means.”

“Wait, wait, like a real one?” Bucky asks excitedly, turning around and nearly dropping the pasta pot on his feet. Steve sort of blinks at him, clearly not understanding Bucky’s enthusiasm. 

“Uhm, I guess?” Steve is so adorably bewildered that Bucky almost can’t stand it. “I’m not sure what makes it real or not.”

“Does he - you know what, I’ll ask Stark some other time. I mean, uhm, if that’s okay,” Bucky backs off hurriedly, not sure which parts of his life Steve is going to want him in. His nervousness is mirrored by unease in Steve. 

“I only just met them,” Steve says softly. “I only just met everyone. But I don’t think Stark would mind answering your questions.”

Bucky wants to respond to that, to the echoing grief of not knowing anyone for longer than a month, but the elevator dings and he doesn’t have a chance. 

“Bucky!” 

“Ma!” Bucky lunges forward for one of his ma’s rib crushing hugs. She drops his duffel bag on the floor and sweeps him into her arms. Bucky surpassed his mother’s height in his sophomore year of highschool, but her hugs still make him feel tiny and protected. He wants to bottle them and give them to Steve. “Come meet Steve.”

The grief, which had never completely vanished Bucky realizes now, gets a little louder and Steve’s face is tight and pinched when Bucky turns back around. They’re too early in the bond to really send anything across it, but Bucky tries to let the warmth and comfort he feels with his ma there float down the bond to Steve. He can’t quite tell if it works, but Steve’s mouth relaxes a little. 

Bucky tugs his ma over to Steve eagerly. Bucky’s not ashamed to admit he’s a total mama’s boy and it’s really,  _ really _ important that his ma and Steve get along. 

“Ma, this is Steve. Steve, this is my ma, Winifred Barnes.”

Steve puts his hand out and gets delightfully shy. “Hello ma’am, it’s very nice to meet you.”

“None of that now!” Bucky’s ma says, batting Steve’s hand away and pulling him into a hug. “And call me Freddie! We’re family now, y’hear!”

Bucky’s ma isn’t a big woman and she looks faintly ridiculous manhandling Steve into a hug. Bucky grins at the image they make, Steve’s wide eyed surprise over her shoulder, her curly hair flying every which way. It makes Bucky feel ridiculously fond and content. 

Eventually, Bucky’s ma backs off, patting Steve’s face fondly as he pulls himself back to full height. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she says firmly. “We’ve all been waiting for you for a long time.”

Steve’s end of the bond jerks and twitches. Guilt, Bucky discovers, feels like thick pond scum left to sit in the sun for too long. 

“Bucky said that when I was in the ice - that he -” Steve stops, mouth twisting. “I’m sorry he had to go through that.”

“I’m sorry  _ you _ had to go through it, honey. It wasn’t ideal for anyone, but you’re here now and that’s what matters.” 

Steve kinda gapes at Bucky’s ma and Bucky sidles over, feeling affectionate towards both of them. He pushes up against Steve’s arm, which automatically comes around him and pulls him a little closer. Bucky’s ma smiles at them approvingly. 

“When are you going to come meet the family, Steve?” she asks, moving right along. 

“Ma, we just met,” Bucky insists, “There’s no need to rush.”

“Nonsense! It’s not rushing. Everyone will want to meet him!” 

“It’s just a lot, ma. Don’t you think? All the girls at once?” Bucky’s sisters are great. They’re also annoying and nosy and loud. Even Bucky’s best friends are a little overwhelmed by them. 

“I’ll give you til brunch on Sunday,” Bucky’s ma says like she’s being ridiculously generous. Bucky knows better to argue for more time than that so he sighs and nods, glancing at Steve apologetically. But Steve’s got this soft sort of wondrous look on his face and there’s no discomfort in the bond. Well, there isn’t until Bucky’s ma says, “Your dad will want to meet him sooner than that, though, so you’ll have to invite him over.” 

Then the bond is the epitome of meeting-the-family jitters. 

“Dad’s easier than ma,” Bucky tilts his head back against Steve’s shoulder so he can see his face. There’s a worried furrow between Steve’s eyebrows and Bucky kinda wants to rub it away with his thumb. 

Bucky’s ma snorts, “George is definitely the easier parent.” 

“Oh,” Steve sounds and feels confused, but Bucky’s family defied explanation. 

“Now is there anything else you two boys need tonight? We can help you with all the paperwork when you come over on Sunday and decide on a reception date and all. Have you talked about whether you want a religious dedication?”

“ _ Ma _ ,” Bucky protests pointedly. 

“Alright, alright. I know when I’m not wanted. Come give me a kiss and I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” Reluctantly Bucky pulls away from Steve and gives his ma another hug and a peck on the cheek. He thanks her for coming all the way from Brooklyn just to drop his things off and she waves him off just as he expected. She smothers Steve with another hug, reminds Bucky to brush his teeth and call his dad and leaves in the same whirlwind she arrived in. 

“Sorry, my ma’s kinda a lot,” Bucky says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. He feels just a little bit self conscious. It’s not that he’s embarrassed by his ma - he’s put those days behind him - it’s just that he really, really wants his family and Steve to get along. 

“She’s great,” Steve says with a grin, and this time he’s the one to initiate a hug. Once they’re pressed together again, he adds, “I think I understand why you like to hug so much.”

Bucky laughs. 

“Let’s put your stuff in my rooms,” Steve adds, pulling back. “Everyone will be coming here for dinner soon.” Steve doesn’t say that he doesn’t want to be around for that, but Bucky can feel his hesitance and discomfort like a physical ache. 

“Okay,” he agrees, turning to get his bag, but Steve manages to scoop it up first and won’t let Bucky carry it at all. 

They get halfway down the hall before a sensation rather like a cat being trod on races across the bond. Steve turns, nervous and apologetic, “I’m sorry I didn’t even ask - there are guest rooms, you don’t have to stay in my room. And we don’t have to share a bed, the couch is really comfortable and you can have my bed if you want -”

Bucky cuts off Steve’s ramble. “I want to sleep with you, if that’s what you want.” Retroactively, Bucky blushes. “I mean, um, just sharing a bed.”

Steve’s awkwardness fades in the face of Bucky’s own self-consciousness and he smiles a little. He takes Bucky’s hand and gives it a gentle little squeeze and Bucky just about melts on the spot. This time when they make it to Steve’s room, Steve latches the door firmly behind them. The space suddenly feels soft and intimate, though the large windows overlook the bright lights of New York. 

“Do you want to help me figure out the television?” Steve asks. He’s not so shy this time and Bucky thinks that’s a good sign. 

“Of course I do.”

*

They end up watching  _ Spirited Away _ . Bucky’s first thought, upon realizing that Steve had missed almost a century of movies, was Star Wars. But, as he explains to Steve, you really need a couple days to do Star Wars properly.

Miyazaki turns out to be an excellent choice (not that Bucky was really worried). Steve loves the animation and the wonder that pours across the bond like sunbeams makes Bucky feel like he’s seeing it for the very first time too. 

And Steve casually loops his arm around Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky leans into him and when Steve doesn’t stiffen up, he scooches a little closer and Steve’s head rests lightly on top of Bucky’s. Bucky can’t remember a more perfect moment. 

And yeah, he knows part of that is the bond, flooding his system with all the happy hormones, making him want to be close to Steve and making Steve’s touch feel so intensely good that it’s honestly a little overwhelming, but he doesn’t care. He’s so happy. 

Bucky starts getting sleepy halfway through  _ Princess Mononoke  _ and Steve pauses the movie immediately. 

“You tired?” he asks, smiling a little. 

“Uh huh,” Bucky yawns. “Sorry. I’m still sleeping off finals week.”

“It’s alright. I’m tired too.” Bucky feels the truth of that across the bond. But Steve isn’t tired the way Bucky is tired. 

It’s a bone deep exhaustion that aches like a bruise in Bucky’s belly. He looks up at Steve worriedly. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers. 

“I’m better now that you’re here.” Steve murmures back and he presses their foreheads together and Bucky lets himself sink into the awareness of Steve. 

They’re oddly in sync as they brush their teeth and wash their faces. Steve politely lets Bucky change in the bathroom. It hurts a little, to close the door and not be able to see Steve and by the time he yanks it open again, they’re both breathing a little too quick. 

Steve’s changed into a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt that is indecently tight. Bucky feels young and silly in his wookie patterned pajama pants and columbia t-shirt. But Steve’s shy and cautious as he approaches Bucky despite their shared need to touch. 

Bucky’s not the only one out of his depth and that helps. 

Steve takes his hand and asks, “Are you ready for bed?”

“Yeah.” Bucky agrees on a sigh. Steve takes the left side of the bed. The bedside table on that side has a neat stack of books and a fancy StarkPhone that looks like it’s never been touched.  Bucky digs in his backpack for his charger and plugs in his own StarkPhone. It’s several years old and the screen is a little cracked, but Bucky’s a broke college student and there’s no way he’s asking for his parents for a new phone when this one works perfectly fine. 

Bucky hesitates at the edge of the bed, watching Steve prop himself up on some pillows on the other side. Bucky’s never shared a bed with anyone except his sisters. And, well, that one time Imani and he got really drunk, but he doesn’t really count that. It suddenly feels very intimate and a little bit terrifying. 

Steve looks at him, that little furrow back between his eyebrows. “It’s really okay if you don’t want to share. I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.” Steve starts to push back the covers and Bucky kinda panics a little and clambers into the bed. 

“No! I mean. I want to share, I do. Sorry. I’m just a little nervous.”

“Me too,” Steve admits, shyly glancing away. A sudden fondness wells up in Bucky and he slides a little closer to Steve. 

“It’s kinda weird,” Bucky says honestly. “I never really thought about it before. Like in the movies and stuff, it’s always so easy. It’s never awkward or nothing, when people start bonding. But we’re basically strangers and we have to be together all the time.”

“Yeah,” Steve grins, settles back against the pillows. Bucky’s still kneeling, so he flops to the side and pushes forward a little so he can put his head on Steve’s shoulder. Steve’s arm comes around him and gives him a little squeeze. “It is a little weird, I guess. But - it’s not so bad.”

“I’m not saying it’s bad,” Bucky clarifies quickly. “Just a little weird.”

Steve nods, chin bumping lightly against the top of Bucky’s head. 

“A little weird is good though,” Bucky adds. It’s something Bernie’s told him a lot, especially during Bucky’s first year at Columbia. He’d been so worried all the time about his hypothermia and how weird he looked, wearing all his layers. Weird makes you different, they’d said, and different makes you interesting. 

“Uh, I usually read a little before I sleep,” Steve says, “Will the light keep you up?”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Bucky assures. “I’ll get out of your way.” Bucky wiggles down and away so that he can put his head on the pillow instead of Steve’s chest. There’s a flare of disappointment at the base of his ribs, so Bucky reaches out so his hand is just sort of awkwardly lying against Steve’s chest, but the bond feels a little softer between them. 

“JARVIS could you turn off the main lights please?”

Bucky really likes that Steve is so polite to the AI. He hides a grin in the pillow and accidentally discovers that it smells like Steve does, clean and masculine and simple. It’s nice. This is nice, lying next to Steve and hearing the pages flip every once in awhile. Some time later, Steve’s hand drifts down to Bucky’s head. It’s hesitant and the bond trembles tentatively between them, but Steve’s fingers curl in Bucky’s hair. Bucky sighs happily and lets himself drift off to sleep. 

*

Waking in the morning is strange. Bucky is still getting used to being warm in the morning but now he’s almost hot. But his temperature is not the first thing he notices - it’s the pleasant ache of the bond. It feels almost like growing pains, but the pain is more like a stretch - Bucky doesn’t really have words for it. The bond sits heavy in his chest, sort of like when the Barnes family cat curls up on his chest and refuses to leave. 

The next thing Bucky notices is Steve, plastered up against his back, arms wrapped around him. He can feel Steve’s breath puffing against the back of his neck. 

“Good morning,” Steve mumbles, still sounds and feeling sleepy like he’s not quite all the way awake. Bucky moves to roll over so he can look at Steve’s face and his thigh brushes up against the hot length of Steve’s morning hard on. He freezes and the bond goes taut and awkward between them at the same time that Bucky’s face goes hot and red. 

“Sorry,” Steve says quickly and pulls away. Bucky feels the loss of the touch immediately but isn’t sure what to say or do. He keeps his eyes fixed on the bedcovers as much he really would to like to take a quick peek. 

“S’okay,” Bucky mutters. 

“I - I’m just gonna shower quick.” The embarrassment is growing between them, each of them adding to it, so that it’s almost hard to breathe through. Bucky thinks he nods, and Steve hurries out of the room. 

Just like last night, it hurts, not being able to see him. Bucky’s breath comes a little too fast and the bond moves from a pleasant ache to a painful throb. Bucky’s starting to get a little dizzy when Steve comes stumbling out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and shampoo suds still in his hair. Bucky moves before he can really think about it, so that he’s close enough to touch. It’s not until his eyes fix on the water dripping down Steve’s chest that he thinks better of the hug he was planning on. But Steve lunges forward into it anyway and Bucky can’t say he really minds being pressed up against Steve’s naked chest. 

Once their breathing has calmed and the pain has faded, “It shouldn’t hurt so much so fast, should it?” Steve asks, voice trembling a little. “No more than a half hour, right? That’s what people say.”

“Our bond’s always been intense,” Bucky admits, though it hurts a little that he has to explain this to Steve. It’s one thing knowing that Steve’s only lived with their bond for about a month, and another having to explain how Bucky’s always been an outlier because of their bond. “Cause of the chronic mirroring when I was little. It made the bond form faster and be stronger.”

“Oh,” Steve says. “I didn’t know it worked that way.”

Bucky pulls back a little, feeling less like he’s about to jump out of his skin.

“Yeah. We should probably make an appointment with my specialist. Uhm, unless you have a doctor or -” Bucky stumbles over the words, but Steve just nods. 

“Yeah, that would be good.”

“I’ll call in a bit.” Steve’s hands are still resting on Bucky’s shoulders, damp and warm. Bucky looks up to meet his eyes. 

Bonds are weird, Bucky decides. 

“You’ve still got shampoo in your hair,” he tells Steve, grinning a little. Steve blinks and then his hand flies up to touch his hair, he kinda grimaces when he feels the quickly drying soap crust. Bucky can’t help laughing at him. 

The bond lightens, twitching like a kite string, and Steve glares playfully at him. They quickly descend back into awkwardness though. Steve glances back at the shower. “Uh, how should we…?”

Bucky’s cheeks redden. He hadn’t thought about that. 

“Maybe we can leave the door open and I can sit out here and we could talk so -” Steve nods at Bucky’s words, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing away shyly. 

“That might work. It’s just - the shower doesn’t have a curtain or anything, it’s just glass.”

“Yeah,” Bucky didn’t know he was capable of blushing this hard, “Uh, yeah. I get it. I’ll just sit here, by the door.” He points at a spot that doesn’t have a clear view into the bathroom and Steve nods again. Bucky decides he deserves a blanket and a pillow if he has to have awkward conversation while Steve’s in the shower, so he drags a couple over from the bed and makes himself a little nest. 

“I mostly had to share bathrooms when I was growing up,” Steve half shouts over the running water. The glass door opens and closes and Bucky does his very best to not think about Steve shedding his towel and stepping into the steamy water wearing absolutely nothing at all. 

Abruptly he remembers that Steve can probably feel his lust and he shuts those thoughts down as quickly as he can. 

“Yeah?” Bucky calls back. 

“Most tenements had one for the whole floor. My ma and I sometimes had a tub in the apartment, but we hadta fill it from a water pump. Sometimes we didn’t though and we had to go to the public baths.”

Steve feels like he’s trying to offer something to Bucky, but Bucky’s not quite sure what it is. 

“And in the Army,” Steve continues after a beat, “We always had to share showers. I mean, if we weren’t on the road, ‘cause that was just soaping up where ever there was water.”

“Steve. Are you trying to tell me you wouldn’t mind if I came and sat in there?” Bucky asks, a little incredulous. He can feel Steve’s blush at the base of his ribs and Bucky shakes his head disbelievingly. 

Steve mumbles something that Bucky can’t quite make out, so Bucky shouts, “What?”

“I don’t mind!” Steve calls back, “But I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Bucky certainly  _ would  _ be uncomfortable if he were sitting in the bathroom with Steve all naked and wet in the shower, but he doesn’t think that’s quite what Steve means. Still after a moment of thought, Bucky hesitantly calls back, “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“That’s okay!” Steve calls back. 

There’s a couple moments of silence before they both remember that they need to be talking to appease the bond. 

“Tell me about your sisters?” Steve calls, just as Bucky’s going to ask more about the apartments Steve grew up in. It’s probably better that way. Steve’s daunting, overpowering grief always comes back when they talk about the past and there’s no need to make this moment any harder than it already is. 

“Becca’s the oldest!” Bucky tells him, voice loud to carry over the running water. “Her birthday is in a couple weeks. Samantha is thirteen and Lizzie’s ten. Molly is the youngest, she just turned seven in March. Becca and Samantha are trouble makers, don’t let them fool you! They’ll turn on the charm and the next thing you know you’re tied to a tree trunk.”

“Talking from experience?” Steve laughs back at him. 

Laughter feels like the fizz at the top of a rootbeer float and it is  _ great _ . 

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Bucky shouts, just to hear and feel Steve laugh like that again. 

“What about Lizzie and Molly?” Steve asks after a beat and it’s nice, that he asks, that he’s genuinely interested and curious, like a little tug on the thread between them. 

“Lizzie’s the most like my dad. Quiet and thoughtful, y’know,” Bucky tells him. “She wants to be a ballerina when she grows up and she’s really good but she’s real humble about it. And Molly’s hilarious. She’s such a goofball,” Bucky’s voice comes out affectionate. 

“They sound great! I always wished I had a sister or a brother.”

“It was just you and your ma, huh?” Bucky asks before he thinks better of it. The grief opens up again, but it doesn’t feel as sharp this time. 

“Yeah. My ma’s parents still lived in Ireland when I was born but they died when I was pretty little. And my dad didn’t really have any family to speak of. So yeah, just the two of us.”

A silence falls again and Bucky’s trying to come up with something else to say when the water turns off and just a few minutes later Steve’s walking through the door, wrapped in a towel again. Bucky’s eyes flick down Steve’s chest. He really can’t get over how perfect it is, like something on a glossy magazine page but standing right there. And somehow, Steve is his. 

An answering heat in the bond makes Bucky look up and blush, realizing he’s been caught. Steve smiles a little and Bucky tries not to let his face get any redder. 

“Do you want a chance to shower?” Steve asks, stepping into the room. He lets their elbows brush as he passes on his way to the dresser. 

“If you don’t mind?” Bucky asked, turning to the chair where he’d left his duffle bag the night before. Bucky’s ma packed him clothes for at least a week and yes, condoms were buried in the corner of the bag and Bucky is studiously ignoring them. 

“Of course not. There’s towels on the shelf across from the shower.” Steve’s grabbing clothes from drawers now, stacking them on top of his dresser and Bucky can feel the awkwardness growing again so he quickly grabs clean clothes from the bag and heads for his own shower. 

He leaves the door open. They’ve already learned that lesson for the day and Bucky’s in no rush to feel the dizzying panic of not being close enough again. Bucky hadn’t really paid attention to the bathroom last night, head too full and body too tired. It’s as luxurious and sterile at the rest of Steve’s rooms, which are starting to make him a bit sad. There’s nothing of Steve in them. 

“Should we try and see your doctor today?” Steve calls, just as Bucky’s skin starts to get a little wiggly with discomfort. 

“I can call, but we might have to make an appointment later this week.” Bucky fiddles with the taps. The shower has no less than six heads and once he’s got the water going, the temperature and pressure are sublime. “I love this shower!” Bucky yells over the sound of running water. He feels Steve’s laugh more than he hears it, but that’s okay. He likes how Steve’s laugh feels. 

“It’s a nice shower,” Steve agrees. His voice is a little closer now, like he’s finished dressing and is settling nearer the bathroom door. 

“What do you want to do today?” Bucky asks as he starts exploring Steve’s products. There are a couple super fancy looking body washes and shampoos tucked into a corner. Bucky doubts they’ve been opened at all. On the little shower shelf there’s a simple shampoo and conditioner combo and a bar of soap. Bucky’s ma had insisted on a haircut before Bucky’s graduation, so his hair’s on the shorter end. It’s not like he  _ needs _ anything fancy, but he’s a little curious about what Tony Stark stocks his showers with. 

“I have a meeting with the Avengers later,” Steve informs Bucky. “And I should probably call someone at SHIELD to let them know I met you. There’s probably paperwork I have to file.” Steve sounds gloomy about all of those prospects. 

“Blow it off!” Bucky suggests, popping the cap on the fancy body wash and promptly sneezing. Holy shit, did every extra dollar go for a more intense scent? He closes it and turns back to Steve’s simpler options. “It’s supposed to be sunny all week and I’ve spent it all sitting in the lobby waiting for you.”

“We could take my bike out?” Steve suggests, sounding hopeful. Bucky’s about to shout back that he doesn’t have a bike of his own when he realizes that Steve doesn’t mean that kind of bike. 

“Yeah!” He hollers excitedly. Now that the image is in his head, he can’t imagine a better way to spend the day than on the back of Steve’s motorcycle, plastered together, his arms wrapped around Steve’s perfect chest. 

“Yeah?” Steve feels just as excited as Bucky does, and the energy building between them is thrilling. 

“Definitely! I’ve never been on a motorcycle before!” Bucky quickly soaps up his hair. The shampoo smells like Steve, clean and masculine, and there’s something kinda stupidly intimate about sharing a bar of soap. 

“I learned during the war,” Steve tells him. There’s a little sadness and pain, but mostly the bond stays clear between them, uncrowded by negative emotions. “I never drove anything before then.”

“I only learned to drive cause we were living in Arizona when I was sixteen. Fuck Arizona, you need a car to get  _ anywhere _ .”

Steve chuckles, soft and friendly, and says, “I didn’t know you lived in Arizona.”

“We moved there when I was seven.” Bucky hesitates before adding, “Because of the cold. It helped keep me warm to be in a hotter place. But I knew I hadta come back to New York. I knew that’s where I’d meet you.”

There’s a pause, just long enough to make Bucky worry, before Steve says “I can’t believe how much a part of your life I was before I even woke up.”

“You’ve always been a part of my life,” Bucky tells him. He can feel Steve’s disbelieving wonder in the bottom of his lungs and Bucky breathes it in. It’s hard for him to understand that Steve didn’t have that, the all consuming certainty that the bond brought to Bucky’s life. 

“And your whole family moved, when you came back to New York?”

“My ma  _ hated  _ Arizona,” Bucky grins, reaching forward to turn the water off. “They only ever moved there because of the cold. She wasn’t about to stay there a second longer than she had to.”

Steve laughs while Bucky quickly towels dry and steps into his clothes. Running the towel through his wet hair, Bucky exits the bathroom. Steve’s leaning against the wall, eyes closed, but he opens them and looks up as Bucky approaches. 

“Hey,” Bucky says, a stupid little grin on his face. 

“Hi,” Steve looks a little shy as he returns the greeting and Bucky is falling for this man  _ so hard _ . 

“Let’s eat,” Bucky requests as he rubs his stomach. Steve, he’s beginning to understand, is always a little bit hungry. Steve nods, grinning apologetically and takes Bucky’s towel to hang up. 

Bucky unplugs his phone and checks his text messages. 

Imani texted him a couple times, switching between  _ I hope you’re boning  _ and  _ is he nice to you _ which makes Bucky shake his head and laugh, just as Steve reenters the room. He raises an eyebrow at Bucky in question. 

“Imani,” he says by way of explanation. 

Steve’s shyness creeps along the base of Bucky’s ribs again and Steve tentatively says, “She seems like a good friend.”

“The best,” Bucky says with a fond smile. “We met freshman year and have been friends ever since.”

“That’s really nice,” Steve says, but there’s a gaping loneliness behind the words, and it’s so overpowering Bucky can’t breathe for it and it hurts like a knife to the gut. “Sorry, sorry,” Steve’s saying and Bucky can feel him trying to wall off that loneliness again. Bucky stumbles forward into his arms. 

“You’re not alone,” he promises. Steve’s arms tighten around him. “I’m here and my friends are gonna love you and my ma’s already adopted you. You’re not alone.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, just tucks his head into Bucky’s neck and lets himself be held, but Bucky feels his gratitude and the beginning of hope, the sunrise in his belly, pour across the bond. 

*

Breakfast is...an experience. When they reach the kitchen there’s already a collection of others sitting around the table. Steve stiffens up and the bond loses the soft openness it had fallen into. Bucky takes his hand and for a minute that only makes Steve more tense, but Bucky squeezes reassuringly and slowly Steve relaxes.  

It’s Stark who notices them first and a smarmy smile crosses his face. “Well look who it is. You’re usually up earlier than this Cap, finally using that bed for it’s intended purpose?”

Steve shifts uncomfortably, glaring at Tony. He opens his mouth to say something that Bucky is sure to be scathing. 

“Steve!” Darcy chirps, thankfully interrupting the exchange with Stark. “Bucky! Hi! I saved you bacon.”

“Is that where all the bacon went?” Stark says in an undertone, but Steve’s attention has already turned to Darcy and he’s smiling and starting to relax again. 

“Thanks Darcy.” Bucky follows Steve over to the other end of the table and takes a seat between Steve and a tiny lady who’s still wearing her pajamas and staring into a cup of coffee like it has all the answers to the mysteries of the universe. Across from him is a rumpled looking man with a mop of curls who looks vaguely familiar to Bucky. 

“Sorry to intrude on you like this,” Bucky says, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. 

“We’re glad to have you,” the man says, smiling nervously. “I’m Bruce.”

“Bucky,” he offers, holding his hand out over the table.

“ _ Ehem, _ I think I get to decide if we’re glad to have him. It’s my tower after all.”

“Ignore him,” Bruce offers as they shake hands. His grasp is unexpectedly strong. 

“I can kick you all out,” Stark says, louder. “Every last one of you.”

Steve’s getting angry, Bucky can tell, so he slides his hand under the table and squeezes Steve’s knee. Steve glances over at him, the little shy smile playing at the corners of his lips. 

They haven’t kissed yet. 

Bucky really wants to kiss him. 

“Do you want bacon?” Steve offers, pushing a platter stacked high towards him. 

“Alright, yeah, but don’t go telling my ma,” Bucky agrees, grabbing a couple slices. His ma likes to think he still keeps kosher and Bucky’s not about to tell her otherwise anytime soon. Steve laughs and Bucky’s pleasantly surprised that he gets the joke. 

“You have my word,” Steve teases, eyes sparkling. Bucky grins back. 

“He laughs!” Stark interrupts. “Is he a real boy after all? I was pretty sure he was made of plastic and patriotism.” Stark leans across the table and goes to poke Steve in the cheek but Steve bats him away and just like that Steve’s good mood is gone and he slides back in his chair, shoulders going tight and face turning stony. Bucky glares at Stark and is glad to see that his expression is mirrored by Bruce and Darcy. 

“What?! You guys are telling me that you thought Capsicle over here could laugh? I thought the serum got rid of his sense of humor. Or maybe they left it under the ice when they defrosted him.”

“ _ Tony _ ,” Bruce hisses. Stark rolls his eyes. 

Steve’s a mess of anger and pain beside Bucky, though his face is steely and if you couldn’t feel him like Bucky can, you’d never know. Bucky leans a little closer, presses his arm up against Steve’s, tries to send warm reassurance through the thread that now feels as wide as a ribbon between them. But Steve won’t meet his eyes. 

“Pass me the toast, Steve,” Bucky mumbles, just so he can get Steve to move and maybe look at him. Steve does, glancing up and smiling a little apologetically. Bucky piles toast up on his plate. In theory he knows half his hunger is Steve’s, but goddamn it, he’s hungry. 

When he looks up the woman who had previously been studying her coffee is staring at him. 

“Who are you? And when did you sit there?”

“ _ Jane _ ,” Darcy says, rolling her eyes and craning her neck around Steve. “This is Bucky. He’s been sitting there for at least ten minutes.”

“Oh,” she says. “Uhm, nice to meet you Bucky. I’m Jane.”

Bucky glances between Darcy and Jane. Steve’s of no help, he’s still glaring at his plate. 

“Don’t mind her. She can’t human before ten in the morning,” Darcy explains. There’s open affection on her face despite the exasperation in her tone. Bucky is surprised into a laugh. 

“Yeah, I know people like that,” Bucky agrees. Darcy grins at his response.

Bruce is separating up a real live newspaper into parts, automatically handing out different parts to different people. Steve gets the main section and sets it on the table. After a minute, a frown passes across his face and Bucky feels something across the bond that he can’t quite make sense of. It’s sort of like when he’s working on a new design  and he’s found another piece of the puzzle. 

“Another kidnapping,” Steve comments. 

“Fourth this month,” Bruce says in agreement.

“Teenager this time.” Bucky glances between the two men and then leans over Steve’s lap to see the article. It’s on the third page, a small black and white picture of a hispanic teen. A little tingle of fear goes through him and Steve reaches up and around to wrap Bucky in a quick and subtle hug. 

“Oh look,” Stark says, who’s leaning over a fancy tablet instead of the newspaper. “That crack priest Phillips sent in another op-ed about same gender soulmates. He’s going to be thrilled when he hears about you, huh Cap? Or are you claiming this is a platonic bond?” Stark’s words are sharp and he’s got his eyes on Steve to see how he reacts. Bucky’s seen the expression before, in engineers trying to prove a theory they believe in so much they’re blinded to the data. 

Only Steve’s not a theory. He’s a person. 

Bucky slips his hand under the table to squeeze Steve’s knee again and leans into him. Bucky looks up and catches his gaze. Steve’s hand comes down and rests over Bucky’s. There’s a desperate desire to escape tugging at the bond, so Bucky flips his hand and curls his fingers through Steve’s, tugging gently. “C’mon, I told my ma we’d be there by eleven.” 

Darcy and Bruce call goodbyes, but Jane’s now buried in the newspaper and Stark says something snarky that Bucky chooses to ignore. 

Once they’re safely in Steve’s room again Bucky pushes into Steve for a hug. 

“Stark’s kind of an asshole,” he says once he feels some of the tension seep out of Steve’s shoulders. 

“That’s one way of putting it,” Steve says darkly. Bucky rubs a hand up Steve’s muscular back and the man sighs a little, relaxing into him. 

“C’mon now, you promised me a day on your bike,” Bucky teases, pulling back. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“You said your ma…” Steve trails off as they separate, hands sliding down Bucky’s arms like he really doesn’t want to let go of Bucky. It makes Bucky feel all warm and gooey and tremendously fond. 

“You seemed like you needed to get out of there,” Bucky explains, trying to keep his tone light. 

Steve looks down at him, his eyes surprised and the bond flooded with gratitude. “I did. Thank you.”  

Bucky grins up at him. Steve’s eyes flick down to Bucky’s lips and Bucky can’t help licking them. Shit, he really, really wants to kiss Steve. 

His nerves get the better of him though and he ducks his chin. “Do do I need to wear anything special for this bike trip?

Steve clears his throat and pulls back. He keeps his arms loosely around Bucky, clasped at the small of his back and it’s so unexpectedly sexy that Bucky feels a flush starting on his cheeks. “Jeans are good, you should wear a jacket - leather or jean.”

Bucky twists his lips, “Uhm, yeah. I might have thrown out most of my jackets a couple weeks ago.”

“Why’d you do that?” 

“I always had to wear so many layers when I was a kid. I was that weird kid who always dressed like an Inuit in the summer. So yeah, my temperature went normal and I tossed most of my sweaters and jackets.”

Steve bites his lip for a minute and Bucky can feel what the remark is going to be before he even says it. “Does your ma have pictures?”

“You are not allowed to see them,” Bucky says sternly, wagging his finger at Steve. Steve laughs, big and loud, and Bucky melts a little bit. They fall into a content silence, the air soft and warm between them, both of them smiling dopily at each other. Steve pulls away first, to Bucky’s disappointment. 

“I have a jacket you can borrow,” Steve says, his voice shy and cautious again. And yeah, Bucky could be okay with that. He grins and nods. Sitting on the floor to pull on his shoes, Bucky has a perfect angle to watch Steve walk over to the closet. There is not an inch of that man that is not perfect, Bucky thinks. And then, feeling silly and goofy and high off being with his other half, Bucky thinks that all those cold years and trips to the hospital were totally and completely worth it, just for this view. Bucky’s just standing up when Steve returns with a leather jacket. Like the gentleman he is, he holds it out so Bucky can slip his arms into the sleeves. It’s too big, but it smells like Steve and it’s so intimate. Bucky now completely understands why Imani is always stealing sweaters from her girlfriends. 

Steve gets a second jacket for himself and they walk hand in hand to the elevator. 

*


	4. is it the grumpy way he talks?

Being on the back of Steve’s bike is even better than Bucky could have ever imagined. Steve insists he wear a helmet, so Bucky insists back, despite Steve’s protests about how he’d heal. 

“I like your face the way it is,” Bucky said firmly and Steve gets all shy and cautious again. 

The seat is sloped, so it doesn’t matter if Bucky tries to put distance between them on the bike, he keeps sliding forward so that his chest is flush with Steve’s back. And then once the bike starts up, Bucky automatically wraps his arms around Steve’s chest as tight as he can and clenches his legs. The roar of the engine and the sharp turns of the bike are a little more alarming than he might have guessed. 

There’s no way they can talk while they’re on the road, but it doesn’t matter. The flow of feelings along the bond is conversation all on it’s own. Bucky’s wonder and Steve’s happiness to be able to share this with him. Steve’s thrill and adrenaline rush echoing down into Bucky so strongly that he can’t really tell where his excitement ends and Steve’s begins.  

They’re just out of the city when that excitement drops low in Bucky’s belly. His dick is pressed right up against Steve’s ass and his chest and Steve’s back are flush. All Bucky can smell is the light, clean smell of Steve and the musky undertones that come from the jacket. Bucky tries to keep himself under control. 

But he’s twenty-two and never so much as kissed somebody and he’s all tangled up with the most attractive guy he’s ever seen who just happens to be his soulmate. It’s a wonder he didn’t get hard any earlier, really. Still, it makes Bucky uncomfortable and self-conscious. Bucky tries not to feel those things because if he does, then Steve will be forced to feel them too, and, despite his mind’s unease, his body is completely on board for getting as close to Steve as he can possibly imagine. 

There’s growing confusion and worry on Steve’s side of the bond and he starts to slow the motorcycle, leaning back a little and Bucky can feel exactly when Steve figures it out. He does not expect the heat that comes roaring back over the bond. He’d kinda expected Steve to get shy and awkward again. 

But there’s pleasure and arousal and  _ desire  _ and Bucky cannot remember ever feeling desired in his entire life. The heat washes away most of Bucky’s embarrassment and he lets his hand press flat against Steve’s perfect chest. The motorcycle accelerates between his legs, roaring with Steve’s want and Bucky lets himself rock into Steve a little bit. 

Bucky’s not sure how long they ride for, but it’s sexually charged the entire time - hot and teasing and almost  _ too  _ good a couple times. Bucky’s young and he’s never wanted or been wanted like this before and the way his dick rubs up against Steve’s perfect ass is the stuff of dreams. 

Bucky realises around Eastport that they’re headed for Montauk. The roads are clear and empty since it’s mid-morning on a Thursday. They flash in and out of suburbs and small towns and then cruise through long stretches of flat roads lined with thick copses of trees. All the while arousal bounces between them, falling and rising in waves. 

The farther they go, the bigger the sky gets, like it’s slowly taking over the world. 

As a child, Bucky never got to spend much time by the ocean. Even in the height of summer the breezes that come off the sea, nevermind the water itself, could get him shivering. The couple times his ma and dad had taken him, Bucky had hated being on the beach wearing a sweater and long pants while people lounged around in their swimsuits and fended off sunburn. He hasn’t had a chance to try again now that he’s warm. 

Steve starts to slow the bike before they around the bend to a grass and dirt parking lot bordered by a worn fence. When they come to a stop, Steve puts up the kickstand and gracefully slides off the bike. His hands come up to help Bucky off and everything between them feels charged and beautiful and wonderful. They both take off their helmets and a cool breeze tousles Bucky’s hair. 

There are spots of color high on Steve’s cheeks and his eyes are shining. He’s happier than Bucky’s yet seen him and Bucky can’t keep his eyes off of him. Bucky’s tucked between the still warm motorcycle and the gentle heat of Steve’s body. He’s still hard, but it’s less pressing now, distant in a way that Bucky doesn’t have any context for. 

Steve’s hard too. Bucky feel it in a tuck and twist of the bond and in the line of heat against his leg where they’re still pressed together. Their eyes are locked and it feels so intimate and so intense, hours of foreplay and the bond knitting them closer together with each passing minute. 

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks, setting his helmet down and putting his hands on Bucky’s hips. Bucky nods breathlessly and Steve crowds in a little closer until Bucky’s sitting down on the bike, his knees bracketing Steve’s slim hips. Steve ducks his head and the sun is warm on their cheeks and Bucky tilts his head up and their lips meet. 

It’s a little weird. 

Bucky’s thought a lot about kissing before. He’s thought about kissing since he was still a kid and didn’t really know what it meant, and then when he was older and he’d imagine what his soulmate might look like and what it would feel like to kiss them. But all that thinking doesn’t prepare him for the gentle pressure of lips against his. Bucky isn’t sure what to do with his lips and is he supposed to use his tongue now? 

Steve hands runs up his hip to his back and he tilts his head a little more and captures Bucky’s bottom lip between his and Bucky tries to replicate it and he’s pretty sure he’s getting it all wrong. Steve pulls back just a little, lips still touching, and murmurs, “Relax. You’re doing great.” 

Oh yeah, Steve can feel him freaking out. Bucky blushes, suddenly embarrassed by his total lack of experience. He’s never really minded before. He’s been waiting for Steve and while his friends might not be waiting for their soulmates, most people do and no one ever judges him for it. It’s assumed that people don't have experience when they meet their soulmates. But now that he’s here Bucky’s sort of wishing he’d done a little casual kissing. He wants to make Steve feel good. 

Steve leans back in and Bucky tries to relax. Steve goes slow and it’s just shifting angles and lips and a little bit of sucking and it’s good, it’s really good and Steve is pressing closer and one hand rests in the small of Bucky’s back and one comes up to cup Bucky’s jaw. Bucky’s not sure what to do with his hands. He has to use one to stabilize himself on the bike so awkwardly, he puts his other hand on Steve’s shoulder and actually that’s really good, because now he can brace himself against Steve and press their chests a little closer. 

Tongue is even weirder than regular kissing. Bucky discovers this fact a moment later when Steve’s tongue runs over his bottom lip in between some of those excellent little sucks Steve has been delivering. And he’s not sure what to  _ do _ . Does he stick out his own tongue? Or does he open his mouth? It’s so weird. Why is it a thing for people to put their tongues in each other’s mouths? He’s never thought about it before, really, but - 

But - it’s actually kinda nice in a weird wet way. It’s not like Steve is trying to force his entire tongue into Bucky’s mouth, it’s just sort of licking and Bucky’s mouth is really sensitive especially after all the warm up kissing and it surprises him how it lights up his whole body and makes him feel really close to Steve. The bond is soft and fluid between them and Bucky wishes they were wearing less clothes so that they could get close enough that the bond didn’t have to stretch across any kind of distance at all. 

Steve pulls back, sighing, eyes still closed and long lashes fluttering above his cheekbones. 

“You’re really good at that,” Bucky says, voice breathy and strained. Steve just sort of grins and in the back of Bucky’s mind it occurs to him that Steve may have kissed other people, back when he thought he was bondless. He doesn’t have time to think about it though, cause Steve’s lips are on his again and this time Bucky is going to try the licking thing. 

It’s a success - it makes Steve’s breath hitch in a way that Bucky thoroughly approves of. 

Bucky’s not sure how long they stay there, wrapped up in each other and making out lazily. Steve’s hunger ruins the mood - Steve might be able to ignore it but Bucky definitely can’t. 

“Dude, you’re starving,” Bucky finally says when he can’t bear the gnawing hunger any longer. It’s always there, just a little bit, Bucky has noticed, like Steve never actually manages to eat enough. In fact, Bucky can feel Steve’s surprise and then realization. “I want to eat a whole pie and I’m just getting your echoed hunger.”

Steve goes all shy again now that they’re not making out, which Bucky finds kind of adorable. “Uhm, I think I saw a diner a couple miles back.”

“Works for me.” Bucky tilts his head up and delivers a final kiss to Steve’s lips. Steve gathers up their helmets while Bucky swings his leg over the bike so he’s straddling it. He takes advantage of Steve’s ducked head to quickly adjust himself. His dick’s been pressing against the zipper of his jeans for ages now and it had started moving from vaguely uncomfortable to painful. 

Getting back on the motorcycle, pressed up tight with Steve, is the last thing he needs right now, but it’s not like he has a whole lot of other options. Bucky peeks out the side of his eyes, trying to see if Steve is similarly affected. Steve’s pants are tented almost obscenely and Bucky kinda gulps. He wonders if Steve has a porn dick. It seems likely that Steve has a porn dick. 

Bucky quickly glances away and tries to picture the least sexy things he can imagine. Steve hands Bucky his helmet, which he slides over his face reluctantly. The sea breeze is cool and salty and Bucky likes the feel of it on his face. He’s glad for the helmet a moment later, when it helps muffle the sound of his groan as Steve gets on the bike in front of them.

It’s indecent how nice it is to be pressed up against Steve’s back, but his dick is decidedly in the picture now and doesn’t have anywhere to go. Already confined by his jeans, the pressure of Steve’s ass against his dick is almost too much to bear. It’s not all good, either. For a while, it had been pleasure with an edge of discomfort. Now it’s mostly discomfort. Bucky can’t remember if he’s ever been this hard for this long without doing something about it. His own frustration is echoed by Steve’s and Bucky resolutely focuses his attention anywhere else. 

Bucky’s mentally engineering some improvements to Steve’s bike, erection happily wilting, when they arrive at the diner. It’s a little place, one of those ubiquitous highway diners. Bucky gratefully slides off the back of the bike, feeling the satisfying pop of his joints as he stretches. Steve takes Bucky’s hand in his as they walk up to the diner, intertwining their fingers. Even after all the more charged touching they’ve been doing all morning, the simple contact is thrilling. The bond is growing quickly between them, faster than Bucky would have imagined. Which reminds him. 

“I didn’t call my doctor this morning,” Bucky tells Steve. “I was going to call and make an appointment.”

“Right,” Steve says with a nod, just as a waitress indicates that they can sit anywhere. They pick a booth in the corner, but instead of sitting opposite each other, Bucky slides onto the bench beside Steve. Steve’s got a shy, pleased smile on his face and he squeezes Bucky’s hand gently. Bucky grins back and leans in for a kiss. 

Steve stiffens for a moment, glancing around at the other patrons and Bucky abruptly remembers that Steve grew up in a time where kissing another man in public could get you into all sorts of trouble, soulmate or not. Bucky pulls back, not wanting to do anything that would make Steve uncomfortable. But Steve’s jaw falls into a stubborn set and he determinedly chases after Bucky’s lips. A joyful laugh bubbles up in Bucky as he kisses back. 

But then. “Freaks,” a man scoffs, just loud enough that they can hear it. They both freeze, pulling back as though burned. Bucky is shocked, like he’s just had ice water dumped over him. Anger and confusion and fear tumble uselessly through his brain. But Steve’s side of the bond is heavy with resignation and it makes Bucky angry. 

It’s 2017. There’s no denying that same sex soulmates exist and are perfectly normal. There’s been countless studies done and reports written. So Bucky pointedly ignores whoever is trying to ruin his perfect day with Steve and leans back in for another kiss. Steve’s lips are stiff under his at first, but Bucky is insistent and he thinks he’s getting pretty good at kissing, and after a minute Steve starts to kiss back. The man makes a disgusted noise and then the bells on the door jingle as it’s slammed shut. 

Success, Bucky thinks. 

Steve pulls back a little and whispers a “thank you” against Bucky’s lips. 

*

Bucky calls Dr. Rothberg while they’re waiting for their food and manages to schedule an appointment for the very next day. Usually, you have to wait a couple weeks for an appointment with a specialist like him, but Dr. Rothberg always keeps times open during the day for what he calls, “the little emergencies.” Bucky’s been seeing Dr. Rothberg, who is also a friend of a brother of a friend or something, since he was a little boy. Bucky’s ma had insisted that Dr. Rothberg be Bucky’s specialist even when they were living in Arizona. His ma didn’t trust many doctors. 

The meal is big and hearty, especially since Steve orders a burger, a full sized caesar salad, fries  _ and  _ onion rings. Bucky can only watch in astonishment as Steve packs it all away. 

“How can you eat like that and not weigh 500 pounds?” Bucky asks incredulously as Steve clears his plate of the last french fry. Of course, Bucky’s cleared his plate as well, but he had a perfectly normal sized meal. 

Steve blushes a little and rubs the back of his neck. “My metabolism is really fast.” 

There’s a creeping sense of self-consciousness across the bond as Steve’s eyes flick over the empty plates. Bucky nudges Steve with his shoulder and grins up at him. “Do you think that’ll spread across the bond?”

It takes Steve a minute to realize that Bucky’s teasing, but when he does an incandescent smile spreads across his face. “Pretty sure you have to work your own calories off.”

“Bummer,” Bucky groans theatrically and Steve laughs. 

After assuring their waitress that they cannot possibly eat another bite and paying their bill, Steve and Bucky get back on the motorcycle. It feels almost normal now, to slide onto the back of the motorcycle and curl his body around Steve’s. Despite the contact, the ride is less sexually charged on their way back, but Bucky can feel the bond getting strong and solid between them. All the touching has been good for it, pulling their souls closer together alongside their bodies. 

Steve draws out their ride back, taking back roads and slowing the pace. It’s a meandering ride, a soft sort of reluctance between them. Neither of them want to go back to the Tower, where they have to figure out the practicalities and deal with other people and their own awkwardness. Bucky doesn’t want to go back to the sterile rooms without warmth or sense of belonging. Bucky would almost rather be among the overbearing chaos of his family than face another stilted meal with Stark throwing jabs at Steve like it’s his favorite pastime. 

Maybe he’ll suggest it. He’d wanted to give them space, but there was such a thing as too much space. Maybe what they really need is to be surrounded by love and laughter. He thinks it will be good for Steve, too, good for the chasm of loneliness that is always there, just out of sight. Steve needs to feel like he belongs and Bucky can’t give  _ belonging  _ all by himself. 

Bucky settles into the idea as they approach the Tower. He waits til Steve has parked his motorcycle in Stark’s fancy, private garage and is putting their helmets away. 

“What do you think about going to stay with my family?” Bucky asks as he runs his fingers through his hair, trying to make sure he doesn’t have any helmet hair going on. Steve’s reaction is so convoluted Bucky can’t quite make sense of it. There’s surprise and pleasure and excitement, but also fear and worry and apprehension. Bucky licks his lips, hesitating. “You just don’t seem very happy here. I want you to be happy.”

Steve takes two quick strides over to him and pulls him into a hug. Steve’s a quick learner, Bucky thinks as he cuddles in close. 

“That sounds nice.” Steve mumbles, and there’s this feeling like Steve can’t quite believe this is all happening and yeah, Bucky knows that feeling. But there’s also the echoing inadequacy of the night before. Bucky thinks he can guess at it’s roots. 

“They’re going to love you,” he promises, pulling back a little so he can meet Steve’s eyes. “They really, really are.”

Bucky still can’t get over how shy Steve gets sometimes. It’s kind of adorable. 

Bucky kind of loves this man. 

His ma is all too happy with the decision when Bucky calls her up. She even offers to come pick them up after work. Steve’s quick to jump in to let Bucky know that they can get a car over, no problem, and Mrs. Barnes doesn’t need to come all the way. Bucky waits til he hangs up with his ma to address that. 

“You can’t call my ma ‘Mrs. Barnes.’ She will lose her shit, I am not kidding.” They’re in Steve’s bedroom now, Bucky perched on the corner of the bed while Steve neatly stacks clothes into a plain canvas duffle. At some point during the day, someone came in and made the bed, making the room feel even more like a hotel room. Bucky’s excited to have Steve in his bedroom back home, with the furniture he grew up using, his posters and pictures of his friends on the walls, the desk Bucky’s dad had put together from a bunch of miscellaneous pieces pushed into a corner. 

Shit. 

Bucky’s still got his Harry Potter sheets on his bed. He wonders if he can shoot off a quick text to his ma to get her to change them. Knowing his ma though, she’d just leave them and make sure she was there to tease him too. Better not to say anything at all. 

“I can’t call her Freddie,” Steve insists, that self conscious shyness filtering across the bond. It makes Bucky melt a little, he’s not gonna lie. 

“She really hates being called Mrs. Barnes,” Bucky reaches out and grabs Steve’s hand, tugging him in closer. “She wasn’t just being polite when she asked you to call her Freddie.”

Steve stares down at their intertwined hands. “I’ll try,” he whispers and Bucky gets the sense that he’s talking about more than just calling Bucky’s ma by her name. 

“It’s going to be fine.” Bucky stands so that he can press Steve into a hug. “My family’s a lot, but they’ve been waiting for you as long as I have.”

Steve flinches a little. “I dunno, Bucky. I’ve never been the person people bring home to meet their parents.”

There’s a lot in that statement that Bucky’s not ready to unpack. (He really doesn’t want to think about Steve having relationships with other people.) It’s a little unbelievable that Steve really thinks that about himself. He’s Captain America, after all, paragon of truth, justice, and the American way. He’s exactly the kinda boy people want to bring home to their parents. 

Bucky’s only known Steve a day, but he’s already getting the sense there’s a lot more to Steve than people know. In twelve years of American history classes, every which of one touched upon Steve in some context or another, Bucky had never heard that Steve hadn’t finished high school. Or that his nanny was a drag queen. Bucky has to forget all the things people have ever said about Captain America. 

Steve Rogers is a completely different man. Bucky pushes up and catches Steve’s lips in a kiss. “You’re exactly what I need or we couldn’t be here.”

Steve’s doubt fades a little, but it remains a pulsing ache between them. Bucky tries not to let it frustrate him. He’s always had a lot of faith in bonds, had to, the way he grew up. So yeah, he believes that he and Steve are perfect for each other. He believes that there’s no one else who could make him as happy as Steve can. There’s no room for doubt in Bucky’s understanding of the bond between them. It’s hard for him to remember, to understand, that Steve didn’t grow up with a bond and probably never had the same certainty in bonds that Bucky does. 

It’s okay, though. Bucky will show him. 


	5. or that he’s socially impaired?

Near the Tower, Bucky can see the damage everywhere. Some less important buildings are still smoking. Guilt sits in their stomachs.

“I should be out there, helping clean up.”

Bucky’s not quite sure what to say to that. “We can go help tomorrow, but you saved the world. You’re allowed a week off.”

Steve startles, bond vibrating like a guitar string between them. “We?” he asks. 

“Well, it’s not like you’ll be able to go out without me,” Bucky says practically. “Not for at least another week.” Steve’s surprise ripples along the bond, but it’s followed by a fierce protective instinct that almost takes Bucky’s breath away. Steve really,  _ really _ doesn’t want Bucky out in the streets where there’s shifting rubble or unstable roads. Bucky’s not sure whether to feel protected or insulted, though both reactions are edged with fondness. 

“Maybe in a week,” Steve mumbles, pushing a little closer to Bucky on the leather seats of the fancy town car that’s taking them to Brooklyn. Bucky gratefully leans into his warmth and smiles up at him. 

The Brooklyn and Manhattan bridges are closed to everything but “essential traffic,” but their driver flashes a badge and they get across just fine. Steve’s end of the bond gets strange as they cross into Brooklyn. Bucky reaches out and takes his hand, looking up at him curiously, trying to send his question across the squeezed bond. 

“I haven’t been back to Brooklyn since I…” Steve whispers, eyes fixed firmly on the seat in front of him. 

“Oh.” Bucky looks out the window. The sights and smells of Brooklyn are familiar to Bucky. The landscape of shiny highrises mixed with old brick buildings always felt more like home than the empty deserts of Arizona. He wonders how much it’s changed since Steve’s day, if the brick buildings Bucky considers a part of the Old Brooklyn were new and shiny to Steve. 

Even within Bucky’s life, there are parts of Brooklyn that have changed immensely. Imani and Bernie can talk for hours about gentrification. Bucky has never really thought about his own role in the changing face of Brooklyn. He has the privilege of not thinking about his privilege. But now he sees it all through Steve’s eyes, a broiling confusion and an electrified wire of anger growing in him as he watches the buildings speed by. Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand, but he can tell it doesn’t make much of a difference. Loneliness and a feeling of complete and utter displacement mix with Steve’s grief. 

Bucky doesn’t realize he’s started to cry under the power of it, until Steve hastily apologizes and there’s a sensation not unlike stuffing everything in your backpack when you’re already ten minutes late for class. Bucky quickly rubs the tears away. 

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” Steve says, face pale and creased with concern and guilt. 

“No, I’m sorry.” Bucky tell him emphatically. “I’m sorry you lost everything and I’m sorry that it’s all so different and I’m sorry that I didn’t realize coming to Brooklyn would be hard for you. I didn’t think.” 

“I’m glad to be here,” Steve takes both of Bucky’s hands in his. “I really am. It’s hard, but I want to be here with you.”

Steve’s so earnest it’s impossible not to believe him. Bucky leans in for a hug and Steve meets him halfway. 

They spend the rest of the trip curled up together, riding out the waves of Steve’s grief. When the car pulls up in front of a familiar brownstone, Bucky’s not sure he’s ever been more happy to see home. 

“C’mon,” he says, tugging Steve out of the car. “I bet my ma made cookies.” He is, no surprise, hungry again. 

Steve’s hesitant, shy and cautious, as they approach the front door, duffel bags tossed over their shoulders. Bucky glances down at his watch. “Becca and Lizzie won’t even be home yet, and Dad’s with them,” Bucky promises as he pushes the front door open. There’s a crowded mudroom, jackets hanging on every hook and shoes scattered across the floor, before a narrow hallway and a set of stairs. 

“Ma!” He hollers. “We’re home!”

There’s a stampede of feet on the stairs. 

“Bucky!” Molly yelps as she throws herself into his arms. Bucky spins her around and she shrieks with joy. When she catches sight of Steve, she squirms out of Bucky’s arms and marches over to him. She holds out her tiny, pudgy hand expectantly. “Hullo! I’m Molly and I’m seven.”

Steve looks like he’d rather be facing down a chitauri and Bucky laughs a little. At the sound, Steve firms up his jaw and squats down so he can look Molly in the eye. “Hi Molly. I’m Steve.” He takes her hand very seriously and shakes it. Bucky slaps a hand to his mouth to cover his chuckles. Steve glares at him a little over Molly’s head. 

“Omigosh that’s Captain America!” Samantha squeaks from the stairs and Bucky abruptly remembers that he’d asked his parents not to say anything til after they met. Clearly, his ma and dad haven’t told the girls yet. Steve goes a little stiff and Bucky sends an apology along the bond. 

“Ah! There you are, I was starting to worry.” Ma’s in her after school clothes, a baggy sweater and jeans, and there’s flour on her nose. 

“We hit traffic,” Bucky explained. “All the roads are still all closed down.”

“Are we not talking about the fact that Captain America is in our house?!” Samantha asks shrilly. 

Bucky’s ma determinedly ignores her and comes over to give first Bucky a hug, and then Steve. But Steve is uncomfortable and the bond itches with it. 

“I’m gonna show Steve my room, ma,” Bucky says, and relief floods across the bond. 

“Alright honey. C’mon down after though, I made peanut butter cookies.” Bucky’s  _ favorite.  _ God, he really loves his ma. “Samantha, Molly, come help me start dinner.”

“Are you going to explain why Captain America is here?” Samantha grumbles as she jumps the last three steps and starts after her ma. 

“Is he really Captain America?” Molly asks, glancing back at them, wide eyed. Bucky’s family disappears down the hallway to the kitchen and Bucky turns to Steve. 

“Sorry. I didn’t realize my parents hadn’t told them, yet. Samantha’s kinda dramatic.” Despite Bucky’s attempt at reassurance, Steve holds himself stiffly, radiating discomfort. Bucky takes his hand. “C’mon,” he cajoles, tugging Steve toward the stairs. 

They take them slowly - Steve keeps wanting to stop and look at the pictures that line the stairwell. Bucky  _ tries  _ to pull Steve past them, but he never quite manages. Steve seems to have a sixth sense for particularly embarrassing photos of Bucky. Of particular delight are pictures of Bucky’s awkward adolescence. Bucky is embarrassed, but by the time they reach the top of the stairs, Steve is relaxed and laughing, so the hit to Bucky’s dignity is definitely worth it. 

“This is my room,” Bucky says, feeling just a little shy as he opens the door. His room’s an awkward mess of all of Bucky’s things. He hasn’t properly lived in this room since he was seven, and it’s still got the wallpaper border of planes that his parents had put up when he was five. But he’s lived summers here, since they moved back when he was eighteen, and there are some posters up of his favorite movies and bands, and a couple framed pictures of him and his sisters. His quilts are still piled up at the end of his bed. His ma’s left a hamper of his clean laundry on his desk chair. 

Steve spins slowly, taking it all in. Bucky would worry, but all he can feel along the bond is a growing fondness and gentle contentment. 

“It’s really nice,” Steve says with one of those bashful little grins that melt Bucky’s heart. 

“Thanks.” Bucky sets his duffel down at the end of the bed, taking a seat on the still rumpled bed. Steve hesitates so Bucky pats the spot behind him. Steve’s cautious as he sits and as he puts an arm around Bucky. He snuggles in close to Steve’s side, sending warmth and happiness along their connection. “I know it’s a lot, bein’ here.”

“It’s alright.” Steve threads his fingers into Bucky’s hair and Bucky sighs in contentment. He’s a little tired after their busy day, though he can tell that Steve isn’t. His ma will only allow them sanctuary for so long, though, and if Bucky’s gonna make it through dinner he needs a nap. 

Clearly reading the bond, Steve murmurs, “You can sleep. I have to email some people.” The way Steve says email is funny in a way that Bucky’s can’t quite describe - sort of like he’s just learning English and is carefully pronouncing it precisely the way his teacher did. That’s probably exactly what’s happening, Bucky realizes. Email is a new word to Steve, like google and hell, even internet. 

“Okay,” Bucky yawns. Steve gets up, probably to fetch the fancy laptop he’d packed, and Bucky reorients himself on the bed. “Come sit next t’me, though,” he slurs. Steve grins at him, a fond little thing, that makes the bond tingle between them. Steve settles himself next to Bucky, laptop carefully balanced on his knees. Turning to the wall, Bucky presses his back to Steve’s long legs. The warmth sinks into him and before he knows it, he’s asleep. 

Awareness of Steve trickles into Bucky’s dreams, which are strange things where he’s in his body, but also in Steve’s, reading emails. When he wakes he doesn’t remember the content of the messages, but he’s certain that at least one person has told Steve off. That certainty could come from the undercurrent of anger in Steve’s blood, but Bucky feels like there’s more to it. 

Bucky’s phone is buzzing in his jean pocket, which is what woke him. Still half asleep, Bucky fumbles for it, and raises it to his ear without glancing down to see who it is. 

“Are you dead?” Imani asks. 

Confusion blooms from Steve, but Bucky grins and rolls his eyes. 

“I texted you this morning.”

“And it’s nearly seven. I left you at Stark Tower.  _ Any _ thing could have happened.” Bucky can hear the real concern behind her teasing. He’s really lucky to have a friend like Imani.

“I’m good,” Bucky rolls over onto his back as he speaks, stretching. “Steve and I went out to Montauk on his bike.”

“Oh  _ really _ ?” Imani’s voice suddenly seems very loud in the quiet room and Bucky blushes. He peeks up at Steve, who’s tucking his laptop away. There’s a little grin playing with the corners of his lips and Bucky blushes a little harder. 

“Not like - nothing happened,” Bucky insists. “I mean -”

“Yes?” Imani asks archly. 

“Fuck you,” Bucky groans. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s not me you wanna fuck.” A burst of laughter escapes Steve before he claps his hand over his mouth and shoots Bucky an apologetic glance. Bucky covers his burning face with his free hand. 

“I hate you.” 

“Nah, you love me. Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you were still alive.”

“Thanks,” Bucky sighs. “We’re at home, now.”

Imani whistles, “Whoo! That man is braver than me, that’s for damn sure!”

Bucky looks over at Steve nervously and apprehension starts to tighten the bond up again, closing Steve off from him just a little. 

“They’re not that bad,” Bucky says, feeling a little defensive. His family is really overwhelming, he knows that, but they mean well. 

Steve’s apology comes along the bond and Imani’s follows, “Aw, sorry Bucky. You know I didn’t mean it that way. Your family is great.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs softly as Steve returns to the bed, sitting on the edge and laying a gentle hand on Bucky’s knee. 

“I gotta go. I’m seeing Paul and Bernie tonight - they wanted to know why you couldn’t come. What do you want me to say?”

“Uhm, lemme check.” Bucky presses the phone to his shoulder and looks up at Steve. But Steve’s turned his gaze to his knees and won’t meet Bucky’s eyes, an angry sort of guilt turning the bond turbulent between them.

“I wish you could just tell them,” Steve mutters. “But Ms. Potts says we have to be careful, that releasing the news could be dangerous. For you, I mean.” The guilt grows bigger and bigger with each word, a chasm of self-recrimination. “I can’t let you get hurt.”

“Steve -” Bucky says, trying to get his soulmate’s attention, but Steve won’t look at him. Bucky cups his strong jaw and presses gentle, coaxing him back to Bucky. “It’s alright. We’ll figure it out, okay? It doesn’t matter if people know or not. That’s not important.”

Steve frowns, his fingers knitting together tightly in his lap. 

“Steve -” Bucky attempts, but they’re interrupted by the door bursting open. It’s Molly, red-cheeked and cheerful.

“Mama says time for dinner!” 

“Did she also say you should knock?” Bucky asks, standing and lifting Molly into his arms. She squeals and hangs onto his neck. Inside, the bond has turned stiff. Bucky can feel Steve boxing himself in again, and he doesn’t know what to do to stop it. Steve always seems to close himself off a little when there are other people around and there’s no escaping  _ people _ in Bucky’s house. 

“Um. Maybe? But m’hungry Bucky!” 

“What did ma make for dinner?” Steve’s getting up now, tucking his hands into his pockets, a polite little smile on his face. Bucky can’t help frowning at him a little as they all go through the door. Steve softens, just a little, and takes Bucky’s free hand. 

“Are you really Captain ‘merica?” Molly asks, innocent curiosity in her eyes. Steve’s shoulders go tense, even as he smiles and nods. 

“I am, yeah.”

“That’s  _ cool _ ! My friend Davie’s daddy works for Iron Man, but you’re cooler cause you’re Bucky’s soulmate. Can I bring you for show and tell?” 

Bucky shushes her, “Steve’s not a thing, Molly. He’s a person and he’s pretty busy.”

“I’d like to come to your school,” Steve interrupts shyly.

“Really?” Bucky and Molly chorus. Bucky’s eyes are fixed on Steve’s face so firmly he almost misses the next step. 

“Yeah.” Bucky can’t make sense of Steve, one moment shy and bashful, the next stiff and uncomfortable, and a moment before that teasing Bucky. He’s clearly confident when it comes to the physical aspect of their relationship, which Bucky can’t help blushing at just thinking about, but when it comes to everything else he seems wildly insecure. 

“You can tell all my friends what it’s like t’be a superhero!” Molly chirrups excitedly. Steve offers her a small smile. Bucky squeezes his hand and decides to forget his confusion. They’re only twenty-four hours into this, still strangers even with all the ways the bond ties them together. They know hardly anything about each other and Bucky’s sure that once they do, it will all make sense. 

Samantha and Becca are waiting at the bottom of the stairs, not at all subtle in their eagerness to see Steve. Bucky glares at them, but Becca just rolls her eyes at him and bounces forward. 

“Hi! I’m Becca.” For a second, Bucky dares to think it’s going well and then, “Will you sign my copy of  _ Captain Brooklyn? _ ”

“Uhm,” Steve mumbles, glancing at Bucky with discomfort in his eyes. 

“No, he won’t,” Bucky interrupts. Becca frowns at him and Bucky gives her his most disapproving big brother look. He’s learned the  _ shame on you _ glare from his ma, who’s a master of recriminating glances. 

“But -” Becca goes to protest and Bucky just tugs Steve straight past them. He knows they’re not trying to be insensitive. Hell, if it was the other way around Bucky probably wouldn’t be acting any different.  _ They  _ can’t feel the discomfort bordering on anxiety, all laced with guilt, that’s tying his bond into knots. Becca’s a good kid and she’s always been a fan of Captain America. It’s not her fault Captain America is Bucky’s soulmate. 

Steve ducks his mouth close to Bucky’s ear and whispers a heartfelt thank you, and things ease again. Bucky grins up at him and daringly reaches out to peck him on the cheek. He immediately regrets it when Samantha and Becca immediately start ooo-ing at him. At this rate, Bucky’s cheeks are going to be permanently stained red. 

Bucky’s ma and dad and Lizzie are all in the kitchen. Lizzie’s perched on a counter, telling ma about her school day, but she goes abruptly quiet when they enter the room - she’s the shiest of the Barnes children. 

“There you boys are! Now, Steve this is my husband George and this is Lizzie.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Steve’s voice has gone a little stiff again, but this time Bucky can really sense the underlying insecurity and anxiety. He squeezes Steve’s hand and Steve grips back. 

Bucky’s dad comes up and offers his hand. Steve has to let go of Bucky’s to take it, and neither of them are in any rush to cease contact. Bucky’s distracted as Molly wiggles down his side, but he doesn’t miss it when his dad says, “Welcome to the family, son.”

There’s a sudden stone lodged in his - in Steve’s? - throat, and the great chasm of grief opens so suddenly that they both take a shuddering breath. Bucky pushes in close to Steve, who’s fighting to keep everything bottled up. Bucky prods at the bond, holds it open a little wider so he can take some more of what Steve is feeling. 

“Thank you, sir.” Steve whispers, and it’s Bucky’s shy, bashful Steve.  It’s the version of Steve, Bucky is beginning to understand, that hides behind the polite soldier the world sees. Steve leans into Bucky and takes his hand again. 

“Come sit down, now,” Bucky’s ma hastens, waving them toward the table. Bucky takes his usual spot, gesturing to Steve that he should take the spot next to him. Their kitchen table is older than Bucky is, stained with fingerpaint and candle wax and it’s usually pretty cozy with all seven of them squished around the perimeter. With Steve, broad shouldered and muscular, it’s a tight squeeze. Molly ends up perched on Bucky’s dad’s leg, ‘cause another chair just won’t fit. 

The beginning of a Barnes family meal is always chaotic - everyone reaching and shouting for dishes and  _ pass the salt  _ and  _ is the salad dressed _ . Bucky feels Steve startle and pull back, a little overwhelmed. Bucky slides his hand under the table and squeezes Steve’s knee, as he’d done that morning at breakfast. Steve relaxes into it and Bucky smiles. They’re figuring it out. 

“You want some brisket?” Bucky asks under the din of his family. Nodding, Steve reaches to take the serving dish from Bucky. When he only serves himself one slab of meat, Bucky quickly spears four more onto his plate. They may have only known each other a day, but Bucky knows how Steve eats. He doesn’t expect the deep discomfort that colors the bond. Bucky plucks the string connecting them with a question. 

Steve doesn’t answer out loud but there’s a burst of different emotions, tangled together and somehow forming into a picture - or maybe it’s words, Bucky’s not really sure. He just  _ knows _ . Bucky’s never had to go hungry, but he somehow knows what it feels like to try and sleep with hunger pains clawing at your stomach. He’s never felt shame or guilt about how much he needs to eat, but Steve has and now Bucky shares it. 

“There’s plenty,” he reassures. “Ma always makes enough for a small army.”

“So what did you boys do today?” Bucky’s ma asks. 

“We drove out to Montauk on Steve’s motorcycle,” Bucky answers around a mouthful of brisket. He fucking loves his ma’s brisket. 

Ma purses her lips and Steve quietly panics at Bucky’s side. “I hope you wore a helmet.”

“Uh huh, Steve was real careful, Ma.”

“Of course he was.” Her voice is fond and sure, like she really couldn’t think otherwise. 

“Steve’s gonna come to my show and tell!” Molly interrupts excitedly. “He said!”

“Oh - you don’t need to do that, Steve,” Bucky’s ma says quickly, forehead furrowed in concern.

Steve shakes his head quickly, “No. I mean - I’d like to, really.”

Lizzie pipes up, voice shy and cautious. “Will you come to my class, too?”

“Of course.” Steve’s answer makes Lizzie beam and Bucky melts happily in to Steve’s side. Bucky’s ma shoots a fondly amused expression his way and Bucky just grins and snuggles a little closer. 

“You should come to my American History class!” Becca adds enthusiastically. “We’re learning about the Second World War! It would be perfect.” 

The muscles of Steve’s arm go hard under Bucky’s cheek. Conversation with Steve is like a minefield - one that even Bucky can’t cross safely. He really can’t expect his teenage sister to do any better, with no bond to guide her. 

“Last week we were learning about how warfare changed during World War Two, like with all the new tech and stuff, and -”

“Becca,” Bucky’s dad says gently, in the tone that lets the Barnes children know they’ve stepped over a line. “Steve might not want to talk about all that.”

“He doesn’t,” Bucky confirms, voice sharper than he intends. 

Becca pouts a little, sitting back in her seat. She’s only fifteen, Bucky reminds himself, and her biggest trauma is Bucky’s repeat trips to the hospital throughout her childhood. Not a little thing, but not anything that gives her reference for violence. ‘Course, Bucky doesn’t have any reference for violence either. But he can  _ feel  _ Steve, and that’s enough. 

“Steve and I are gonna go see Dr. Rothberg tomorrow,” Bucky says to change the subject. 

“Oh, good,” Bucky’s ma pipes up. “Do you still need to file your papers?”

“Yeah.” Bucky reaches for the dinner rolls as he replies - his arm isn’t quite long enough so Steve reaches out and grabs them for him before Bucky can even ask. “And Steve’s got different ones he’s gotta do.”

“I imagine so. I’ll print out a copy of the basic papers and leave them in your dad’s study for you.”

“Thanks ma.”

“I don’t suppose you thought anymore about what kind of dedication ceremony you want, have you?” Bucky’s ma is trying to look nonchalant and failing. She’s been planning Bucky’s ceremony for years - it’s not that Bucky’s the only one of his siblings with a mark. All his sisters but Samantha have one, and Samantha’s got another two years before she’ll be officially labeled markless. It’s just that Bucky’s soulmate has always been so much a part of their lives. Bucky’s ceremony didn’t only mean that he’d found his other half, it also hopefully signaled an end to his hypothermic days. 

“ _ Ma _ ,” Bucky protests. 

“Alright, alright. Becca, did you ask your teacher about the recital date?” Conversation descends into the safe and familiar - school and work, ballet and cello, Samantha’s upcoming softball game, Molly’s little league practices. Steve relaxes as the attention turns away from him, which lets Bucky relax too. Bucky’s dad pulls them into a conversation about baseball with Samantha, and soon there’s a heated discussion raging. Even within Bucky’s family, there’s no real consensus about who to support. Bucky’s ma couldn’t care less, while his dad (who grew up in Boston) is a hard core Red Sox fan. Bucky’s always supported the Yankees, being a New Yorker at heart, but Samantha takes after their dad and Molly’s been thoroughly brainwashed by the two of them. Becca and Lizzie don’t really care either way, but Becca supports the White Sox, just to be a pain in the ass. 

Steve, though. Steve supports the Dodgers and is deeply conflicted about it. Bucky didn’t actually know someone could have such serious misgivings about a sport team, but Steve feels personally betrayed by the Dodgers move to L.A. 

“It meant so much, y’know,” Steve says, and his voice is finally relaxed, vowels drawing out and ends of words slipping away. “No one in Brooklyn had been American very long, and nobody agreed on much of anything. Except baseball. When they won the series in ‘41, it was like everybody in Brooklyn had won. I can’t believe they moved to L.A.” 

“You could always support the Yankees,” Bucky teases. Steve sends him a playful glare. 

“It’s bad enough  _ you _ support them. If anyone from back then was around -” Steve shakes his head, despairing, and walls off his grief so completely Bucky almost doesn’t feel it. But he lets Steve hide it. Steve’s happy, he’s happy. There’s no reason to dwell. 

Steve insists on helping clean up after dinner, which earns him a peck on the cheek by Bucky’s ma, and an extra cookie at dessert. Bucky, having accidentally eaten according to Steve’s appetite rather than his own, can barely manage his own cookie. He’s gonna gain ten pounds by June if he keeps it up, but his ma’s cookies are so good. 

The older girls are hustled off to finish their homework and Bucky’s dad sits down at the cleared table with Lizzie to help her through her math work. 

“Alright Mollypop,” Bucky’s ma says. “Time for bath and bed!”

“Can Steve read me my story?” Molly asks, peering over Bucky’s ma’s shoulder. Steve starts and colors, a rather ridiculous amount of shock flooding him. 

“You’re going to have to ask Steve that.” 

“Uhm, yeah. Sure.” Steve says shyly. Bucky’s ma gives him a look that says  _ you got a good one _ . Bucky already knew that, though. While Molly’s in her bath, Bucky gives Steve a proper tour of the house. There’s the practical things, like where all the bathrooms are located, but there’s also the wall where their heights are marked in pencil, and the bookshelf Bucky climbed and fell off when he was 5, leading to his first non-hypothermia related visit to the ER. 

Steve delights in all of it, from what Bucky can sense. Steve keeps his hand tangled with Bucky’s as they wander floor to floor. They reach the third floor, just as Molly comes running out of the bathroom, wearing a set of pajamas Bucky’s pretty sure used to be his and toothpaste on her lips. She grabs Steve’s hands and starts to pull him towards her bedroom. Of course, if Steve didn’t want to go, none of the Barnes’ family could make him, let alone little Molly. 

But he follows willingly enough, one hand wrapped carefully around Molly’s, the other intertwined with Bucky’s. Molly’s already picked out a small stack of books and set them by her bed, ready to go. 

Bucky’s ma sticks her head in, “Bucky, you boys good for bedtime or should I peak my head back in after a while?”

“I want Bucky and Steve!” Molly pouts and Bucky grins. 

“Nah, I’ve got it, Ma.”

“Thanks, honey.” She comes into the room and gives them all a peck on the cheek, even Steve, which makes him blush. After wishing them a good night, Bucky’s ma slips out the door, turning off the overhead light as she does. 

Bucky settles on the floor next to Molly’s bed, Steve following his lead after a moment. Molly’s already decided what order she wants her stories read in, and she hands the first one to Steve with an imperious air. 

Steve’s got a nice voice all the time, but it’s different, hearing him read to Bucky’s sister. Bucky leans against the bedframe, watching Steve in the low light of the bedside lamp. Affection wells up inside him, strong and heady. Thirty-six hours now, Bucky thinks, thirty six hours since he and Steve met. It’s overwhelming, how fond he already is of this man. 

Bucky snuggles into Steve’s side, and Steve’s arm comes around him automatically, not even a pause in the steady cadence of his voice. Tucking his cheek against Steve’s shoulder, Bucky can feel the familiar words of  _ Where the Wild Things Are _ rumble through Steve’s chest. 

Molly falls asleep somewhere in the third book. Bucky tucks her in and turns off the lamp while Steve watches, and it all feels so domestic and intimate. Bucky suddenly wonders if Steve wants kids. Bucky’s always wanted a big family, doesn’t actually know what life is without one. 

He lets the question be, not anywhere near ready to ask, but enjoys getting to think about these things. He wants to plan the rest of his life with Steve, wants to dream about all the things they’ll do together and the experiences they’ll share. For now, he slides his hand into Steve’s, feeling the already familiar press of calloused skin. 

“C’mon,” Bucky whispers, nodding towards the door. Once they’ve moved into the stairwell, he adds, “Thanks for doing that. You didn’t have to.”

“I know.” Steve hesitates a moments, and then mumbles, “She’s sweet. You guys look a lot a like.”

“Yeah, we both take after my ma,” Bucky agrees. “So does Becca. But Lizzie and Samantha are all Dad.” Steve grins, nodding. 

Cautiously, Bucky asks, “Do you look like your ma or your dad?” He’s not surprised by the grief this time. He’s prepared enough that he gives Steve’s hand a little squeeze, just as they reach the landing for the top floor. 

“I don’t really know,” Steve admits as he follows Bucky into Bucky’s room. “My dad died before I was born and my ma only had one picture of him.”

“Wow. I mean - uh. I just can’t imagine, you know, only having one picture.” Bucky glances up at Steve as he speaks. Steve smiles sadly.

“I always wished I got a chance to know him.”

Bucky sits on the edge of the bed while Steve perches on Bucky’s desk chair, so they’re facing each other. Steve props his elbows on his knees, and bent like that they’re precisely the same height. 

“Were he and your ma soulmates?” Bucky can’t remember ever reading anything about that, but history had never been his favorite subject. He’s kind of glad, now. It would be weird if he was really into history, like Becca is, and Steve was his soulmate. It wouldn’t be very fair to Steve, really. 

Steve shakes his head. “Ma never had a mark. She said dad had a scarred mark.”

“So neither your mom or you -” Bucky goes to ask. 

“No, we both had bare wrists,” Steve answers. “I think it made things easier for me, growing up. Having a mark never seemed to matter as much as some people said it did.” Absentmindedly, Steve runs his fingers over his mark. Bucky shudders, feeling the sensation in his own mark. 

“Oh,” Steve whispers. Licking his lips, he pushes the desk chair forward, towards Bucky. A thrill goes through Bucky and he tilts his chin just as Steve’s lips descend onto his. This kissing isn’t like the kisses earlier, charged and overpowering. It’s softer, sweeter, just the press and caress of Steve’s lips on his. It’s easy to lose himself in it. 

Time slows and arousal flows between them like molasses, thick and sweet. Bucky scooches back on the bed and Steve follows without a word. Steve settles sideways onto the bed, his hip pressed to Bucky’s leg. The new angle is awkward and puts a crick in Bucky’s neck, so he pulls back reluctantly. Steve’s big, warm hand comes to Bucky’s hip, a gentle pressure guiding him up and over, until he’s settled in Steve’s lap. 

It’s really fucking hot. 

Steve’s hands run over Bucky’s back, long, slow strokes. Bucky arches into the contact, pulling his lips away from Steve’s completely by accident. He goes to fix that mistake, but Steve starts to kiss down Bucky’s cheek to the line of his jaw, where he pauses and sucks. It shouldn’t feel good and it shouldn’t be hot, but it feels so good. Bucky tilts his chin up and Steve’s mouth progresses down his neck, pausing to suck and nibble, and Bucky starts to make some really embarrassing gasping noises. His hips rocks down into Steve without him thinking about it, and his dick stirs in his jeans. He wraps his arms around Steve’s broad shoulders and groans, just a little. 

Bucky’s never really understood the appeal of making out, especially the kind of making out drunk college students do at parties. But Steve’s lips on Bucky’s neck are amazing, seeking out every little patch of skin and hunting down nerve ending Bucky didn’t even realize he had. 

One of Steve’s hands tentatively slips under Bucky’s shirt. “This okay?” He whispers in Bucky’s ear, lips dipping down and nibbling on his earlobe. Bucky nods, banging his nose into the top of Steve’s skull. 

“Oh God,” Bucky says, completely mortified. But Steve just shoots him an adorably lopsided smile and stretches his neck to press their lips together again. On his back, Steve’s hand moves in long, slow patterns that make Bucky shudder. Steve’s other hand comes up, under Bucky’s shirt. It occurs to Bucky that it would probably be alright if he put his hands under Steve’s shirt. Steve’s wearing a neat button down, all pressed and proper, and there’s something kind of thrilling about messing it up and he rucks it up Steve’s back enough to get his hand underneath. Of course, Steve’s wearing an undershirt and Bucky’s not quite sure what to do about that. Is it acceptable for him to pull the t-shirt out from Steve’s pants? 

He’s distracted as Steve starts to push Bucky’s tee up his torso. “Can we take this off?”

Bucky hit by a sudden and shocking wave of insecurity. Bucky’s never been self conscious about his body, perhaps because he’s never had the chance to show it off. Bucky can’t think of anyone besides his parents or doctors who have ever seen him shirtless. The realization makes this moment suddenly a lot more overwhelming and intimate. Steve pulls back, probably sensing Bucky’s distraction across the bond, forehead creased with worry. 

“Yes,” Bucky says, instead of addressing his worries. He figures most people would be a little insecure taking their shirt off in front of Steve - guy’s built like a greek god. Steve hesitates, biting his lip and studying Bucky’s face, but after a moment he nods and goes back to what he was doing. Only, his lips don’t stay on Bucky’s very long, instead working their way down the other side of Bucky’s neck. This time he adds in some licking. Why is Bucky always so surprised by how good licking feels? Licking is a good thing, he decides.

Steve tugs Bucky’s t-shirt up and off in a single, smooth movement. Bucky doesn’t think about why Steve’s so good at taking other people’s clothes off. Steve’s got practice making out, it doesn’t mean anything. Steve didn’t know he had a soulmate ‘til a couple weeks ago. Steve’s lips slide to Bucky’s collarbone, effectively distracting him from that line of thinking. 

Bucky brings his hands hesitantly to the front of Steve’s shirt. He feels pretty certain that both of them being shirtless is a good idea. “Can I?” he asks, not terribly proud of how shyly his voice comes out. 

Steve nods, pulling his hands away from Bucky’s body to start undoing his own buttons. That’s probably the only good reason for Steve to stop touching him, Bucky figures. Between the two of them, all of the buttons are quickly dealt with. Bucky pushes Steve’s shirt back, down along the impressive bulk of his shoulders and the mouthwatering curve of his biceps. Steve’s undershirt quickly follows and Bucky has to sit back and just admire for a moment. 

Steve is sculpted like an artist carved him from marble. But - he’s not perfect, Bucky sees after a moment, and somehow he’s all the more attractive for those imperfections - his slightly lopsided nipples, a triad of moles along his ribs, the strange divot on one hip. Bucky’s not sure where to put his hands now that all this skin has been revealed to him, but Steve wraps his arms around him and presses their chests together, saving him the choice. 

A little worried he’s gonna fuck it up, Bucky tentatively lowers his lips to Steve’s neck. He tries to mimic the little sucks and nibbles Steve had delivered to Bucky’s neck. He’s pretty sure he’s succeeded when Steve gives a pleased sounding hum. 

They spend a long time mapping out each other’s chests, finding ticklish spots and sensitive ones. The bond isn’t strong enough yet that anything more than their shared pleasure and arousal floats between them, but every once in a while a brief touch to either of their marks sends them gasping and panting.  Steve runs his hands up from Bucky’s narrow hips and takes a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulling back and watching Bucky’s face as he carefully rolls it in his grasp. Bucky whimpers, though he’ll deny it later, and Steve grins like he’s just unwrapped a perfect gift.  Steve kisses down Bucky’s chest and takes Bucky’s nipple into his mouth. He does it slowly, giving Bucky time to react, and keeps his eyes fixed on Bucky’s face. 

It’s weird and hot and wet, like Bucky is discovering many sexy things are, and it makes him gasp and whimper. One of Steve’s big hands cups Bucky’s hip and the other keeps playing with Bucky’s other nipple.  Steve closes his eyes and sucks a little harder and Bucky’s hips jerk forward, rubbing his painfully jean clad dick into Steve’s stomach. Steve’s rocks up to meet him, his hand trailing down to Bucky’s jeans. Pulling off Bucky’s nipple with a slurp that Bucky would, in a different situation, find utterly disgusting, but it somehow a little arousing now, Steve asks, “Is this okay?” His thumb rubs over the button of Bucky’s jeans. 

Bucky freezes and starts to panic a little. He wants to see Steve naked, he really, really does, but what will he be expected to do if Steve takes Bucky’s pants off? There will be touching, probably, maybe even licking and it will probably feel great, but it’s so much, too quick and Bucky doesn’t think he’s ready for that. 

“Uh, I dunno,” he mumbles, but Steve is already pulling back, hands going back to the safe skin of Bucky’s hips. Bucky keeps his eyes down and prods at the bond, wary of what he might find. And yes, there’s a little disappointment, but mostly there’s just affection and concern and a steadily growing sense of respect and admiration that honestly stuns Bucky a little. Steve is Captain America, but the very fabric of their bond is written with the pride Steve feels, knowing that Bucky is his soulmate. 

It’s overwhelming and Bucky tucks his head into Steve’s neck. Steve pulls him close, pressing a kiss to the side of Bucky’s head. And it’s a little bit weird, because heady arousal still pulses between them, but mostly there’s just this soft, content, warmth that maybe feels just a little bit like love. 


	6. but you'll never meet a fella who's as sensitive and sweet

Steve and Bucky manage to sleep through the morning hustle and bustle of the Barnes’ household, which is one of the perks of the attic room. By the time Bucky blinks awake, it’s almost ten, sunlight just starting to stream through the room’s south-facing windows. 

Steve’s already awake, no surprise there. He’s still tucked into bed with Bucky, laptop balanced precariously on his knees. Bucky’s cuddled too close for him to set the laptop in his lap. Bucky yawns and stretches, butting his head up against Steve’s ribs like a cat. Steve glances down at him and smiles. 

“Hi, sleepyhead.”

“Hi. You’re starving. Woke me up.” Bucky means for the comment to be teasing, even though it is true, the gnawing hunger pains in Steve’s stomach did drive him out of dreamland. But Steve’s expression goes distressed. 

“I’m sorry! I couldn’t go get breakfast ‘cause you were asleep, and I couldn’t -”

“M’just teasin’,” Bucky explains, sitting up slowly. He feels warm and lazy, his contentment filling him with an odd sort of confidence. Reaching out, Bucky grabs Steve’s laptop and sets it on the floor. He swings his leg over Steve and settles happily in his lap. Bucky’s half hard and there’s a steady thrum of arousal in the bond that underlies everything else he and Steve are feeling. Steve’s hands settle automatically on Bucky’s hips, gentle and warm. Tipping his chin down, Bucky plants a kiss on Steve’s lips. There’s a part of him that’s aware they’ve both got morning breath, but it doesn’t seem to matter in the grand scheme of needing to kiss Steve. 

Steve kisses back, slow and relaxed. 

They’re both hard, but it doesn’t feel urgent. And everything feels less awkward this morning, too, though Bucky’s not sure why. He’s still got plenty of worries, plenty of doubts, but the bond feels a little steadier between them. The heat grows between them, and Steve’s hands slip up under Bucky’s shirt, easily finding the hot spots they’d discovered. Feeling more confident than he had last night, Bucky starts kissing down Steve’s neck. He runs his hands over Steve’s broad shoulders. The man is so fucking built, Bucky can’t even believe it sometimes. 

Their stomachs rumble in unison, effectively disrupting the mood. Steve huffs a little laugh, his breath puffing against Bucky’s neck, and Bucky’s heart skips a beat. After a few short kisses, Bucky climbs out of Steve’s lap. His back to Steve, Bucky surreptitiously adjusts himself in his pajama pants. He really,  _ really  _ needs to jack off, but it’s unlikely that the bond is going to let them have enough time apart for that. 

Bucky’s pretty sure Steve would be willing to get him off, but he’s not sure he’s ready for that. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since his first kiss, for fuck’s sake, and literally no one but his parents and doctors have seen him in  _ any _ sort of undress. Steve’s arm wraps around him from behind, the heat of Steve’s body settling up against Bucky’s back. 

“You alright?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky rushes to assure, not wanting to talk about all his hangups around intimacy. Steve’s waited more than a century, it’s not like Bucky needing a week or two is going to be any sort of deal breaker. “Let’s get breakfast.”

“Okay,” Steve hesitates, a little wobble in the bond, “Will your family still be here?”

Bucky glances towards the clock by his bedside, leaning back into Steve’s chest. It’s past ten, which means the house will truly be theirs. 

“Nah, ma probably left before the sun was up and the girls are all at school. Dad works from home sometimes, but there’s a big release date coming up so he’s going to be in the office.” 

“What does your dad do?” Steve asks as they gently peel apart, clasping hands instead. 

“He writes code for an online data sharing platform.” Steve gives him a look like he’s speaking a different language. Under that there’s the deep feeling of  inadequacy that Bucky felt for the first time yesterday, when Steve had admitted he hadn’t finished high school. “Computer shit,” Bucky elaborates, “honestly, I don’t think most people completely understand what he does. He’s been doing it since before it was really even a career people did. I think he just likes working with computers instead of people.”

“Oh,” Steve mumbles, shoulders tight and mouth twisted into a frown. 

“Steve…” Bucky glances up at him, trying to find the right words. Instead, he just tries to push his understanding and admiration down the bond. Steve rubs the base of his ribs and gives Bucky a sort of wondering look. Bucky really can’t believe that Steve, who is not only Captain America but a kind and considerate man, has such a low opinion of himself. “I’m really glad you’re my soulmate.”

“Yeah,” Steve smiles, the last of the tension leaving his body, “Yeah, me too.”

*

Bucky’s ma left a pile of pancakes for them, but she underestimated how much food Steve needs, so Bucky makes them a huge helping of eggs to go with and encourages Steve to eat whatever he wants off the cereal shelf. Once again, Bucky eats too much because of Steve’s appetite and ends the meal leaning back and rubbing his stomach while Steve fills his plate up a fourth time. 

“Our appointment’s at two,” Bucky says after he’s digested enough to speak without belching, “But I’m not sure how long it’ll take us to get there, we should probably leave early. Do you want to grab a cab or…?”

Steve pats his mouth with his paper towel, like the utter gentleman he is, before answering, “I can have a car pick us up, and we should be able to take the bridge again.” Steve’s a little flustered as he makes the offer, a feeling of utter bemusement tripping across the bond. 

“That would be great,” Bucky agrees, standing up to put the dishes in the dishwasher.

“You cooked!” Steve protests, hurrying to his feet and taking the plate right out of Bucky’s hand. “I’ll clean!”

“But you’re a guest!” Bucky says, without thinking. A stabbing pain flares in the base of his ribs, so sudden and intense that it takes Bucky a minute to realize where it’s coming from. “Oh, no, Steve. I - that’s not what I meant. I just - I -”

“Can I please do the dishes?” Steve asks, voice subdued and refusing to meet Bucky’s eyes. 

Bucky pushes into Steve’s space. “Nah,” he says, doing his best to keep his voice light, “We’ll leave ‘em for later. It’s home, right? Things don’t always need to get done right away.” 

Steve lowers the plate down onto the table, his hands coming around to rest at the small of Bucky’s back. Bucky shudders with a soft sort of pleasure and tips his chin in a request for a kiss. Steve obliges. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says after a moment, pulling back slightly. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“I feel like a guest everywhere,” Steve admits, voice quiet, “but I really like it here. I like your family. I like you. I don’t want to be a guest.”

“You’re not a guest,” Bucky says firmly, “You’re family. You’re my soulmate and you’re stuck with us.”

Gratitude floods across the bond like a tap being turned on and Steve pulls Bucky into a heady kiss. They stand there making out in earnest, in the sun soaked kitchen of Bucky’s earliest memories. It’s a memory Bucky is quite happy to add to the collection that belong in this room. 

Not having done a whole lot of kissing - any kissing, actually - Bucky doesn’t know if all kissing is this intensely awesome or if it’s just that Steve is really fucking good at it. He kind of thinks it’s the latter. Steve kisses with his whole body, pressing close to Bucky, hands running up and Bucky’s back in long, firm strokes. And Bucky is more sold on tongue kissing every single time they do it. 

Reluctantly, Bucky pulls back, sucking breath back into his deprived lungs, and panting, “We should go get ready.” Each word is punctuated by another kiss from Steve until finally Bucky thumps him in the chest. 

“We can’t just stand here kissing all day,” he insists. 

“Why not?” Steve asks and well, he makes an excellent point and they lose another ten minutes making out in Bucky’s kitchen. It’s when Steve is gently nudging Bucky’s head to the side so he can nibble at his adam’s apple - yet another perplexingly good physical sensation that Bucky had never considered before - that Bucky catches sight of the clock above the oven.

“Shit!” he swears. “Steve it’s already 11:30! It’s going to take at least an hour to get into Midtown if we’re lucky!” 

“Sorry,” Steve apologizes, but Bucky can tell that he is not even the least bit sorry. He shoots him a quick glare that he doesn't really mean either. Bucky pulls back, his dick dragging against Steve’s thigh where it’s been pressed for the last twenty minutes. He hisses. 

He really needs to jerk off. Fuck. 

One of Steve’s hands comes back to Bucky’s hip, his thumb stroking the sharp outline of his hip bone, rubbing down to the line of Bucky’s sleep pants, then up again. Bucky shudders. It feels so good, but…

He pulls back a little, glancing away. “I’m not ready for that,” he admits, cheeks flushed pink and feeling a little pathetic.

“That’s fine,” Steve assures, pulling his thumb away. “I’m sorry if it felt like I was pressuring you. That’s not what I meant to do.”

“I know.” And he does, he can feel Steve’s honest regret, tinged with a little guilt, over the thickening bridge of their bond. Bucky  _ wants  _ to be ready. He’s young and Steve is really fucking hot, but any time Bucky thinks about going further, a wave of apprehension and nervous energy surges up in his belly. Bucky leans against Steve’s chest for a quick hug. “Now come on, we really have to get ready.”

Steve grins, a blooming affection tickling Bucky’s ribs, and follows Bucky up the stairs, hands clasped between them. 

Unlike the other times Bucky’s gotten hard while making out with Steve, his erection refuses to flag even a little, and by the time they reach his floor he’s distinctly uncomfortable. What’s worse is that he knows Steve can feel it, can tell  _ why _ Bucky’s uncomfortable, which just makes him embarrassed. And the embarrassment  _ should _ help with the issue, but it just doesn’t. 

There’s a feeling like gears clicking as Steve decides whether to say anything. Bucky ducks his face, cheeks burning, and goes over to his dresser so he doesn’t have to look at Steve. 

Steve’s flustered too, which is the only thing that’s really helping this entire situation.

“You could shower?” Steve offers, voice soft and somewhat awkward. “Maybe the bond will let us, um, without talking this time.” Bucky doesn’t think his face has ever been this red, but he really,  _ really  _ needs to get off. There’s no way he can spend all day pushed up in Steve’s space like the bond demands if he doesn’t. 

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky mumbles, knowing they’re not really talking about a shower. He peeks back at Steve and is reassured to find that his cheeks and the tips of his ears are pink. The bond is awkward and strained between them and Bucky wonders why people never talk about  _ this _ , this not having privacy until the bond settles. It fucking sucks. 

Bucky grabs one of the clean towels his ma had thoughtfully left on the top of the dresser and leads the way to the tiny little bathroom on this floor. Steve follows him awkwardly and they pause outside the door. 

“I’ll just...wait out here,” Steve finally says, not quite meeting Bucky’s eyes. Opening the door, Bucky slips inside the bathroom. He starts the shower, ‘cause the water needs plenty of time to heat up, and tries not to think about what he’s about to do. He’s still irritatingly hard in his sweats, and it’s a relief to peel them off. 

Outside the door, left ajar for the bond, Bucky can hear Steve settling against the wall. 

This is by far the most humiliating experience of his life, and Bucky’s bar for embarrassment is higher than most. He glares at his uncooperative dick for a moment. The mild itching at the base of Bucky’s ribs reminds him that time is limited before this becomes even more embarrassing than it already is. He squeezes himself into the tiny shower cubicle, and leans against the wall. 

Bucky doesn’t think about it. 

He doesn’t think about Steve, just outside, probably able to hear him, definitely able to feel Bucky’s arousal and shame. 

But he’s not thinking about it. 

He takes himself in hand, and it’s a fucking relief. Bucky may be completely inexperienced when it comes to intimacy, but he’s a healthy, red-blooded, allosexual guy, and it’s a rare day that he  _ doesn’t  _ jerk off. And what with everything, it’s really been too fucking long. 

Bucky bites down on his lip to stifle his groan and quickly sets a rhythm that he knows will get him off quickly - hopefully before the bond demands he and Steve be in the same room again. His head thunks back against the shower wall and he tips his face up so water runs down his cheeks. 

And,  _ fuck _ , Steve. Steve’s hot body pressed up against his when they fell asleep last night. The broad expanse of Steve’s back and the press of his ass up against Bucky’s dick for  _ hours  _ yesterday, the rumble of the bike between Bucky’s legs. The feel of Steve’s mouth on Bucky’s neck, the quick bite of his teeth on Bucky’s nipple…

God, what would it feel like to have Steve’s mouth other places? Bucky strokes his free hand over his lower belly, imagining it’s Steve’s. And maybe Steve would go lower, maybe he’d take Bucky’s dick in his mouth, and there would  _ definitely  _ be licking and sucking and it would so fucking  _ hot _ . 

Bucky rubs his thumb over the head of his dick, bring his other hand down to cup his balls. Would Steve do that? Steve was so  _ attentive  _ and so  _ kind _ , he’d want to know exactly what to do to make Bucky feel good. 

Maybe his hands would go further back, touch Bucky where Bucky’s only touched himself on rare occasions. Bucky’s not a total innocent. He’s watched porn. He knows anal sex is a thing. He just hasn’t ever been able to decide if it’s a thing  _ he  _ wants, but with Steve… Fuck, with Steve, Bucky wants  _ everything _ . 

With that thought and a little twist of his wrist, Bucky comes, gasping and moaning, forgetting to be quiet, forgetting that Steve’s just outside.

“Fuck,” Bucky hears, Steve’s voice low and gravelly. And then there’s sensation, low in Bucky’s belly, heat and pleasure and  _ want  _ and Jesus fucking Christ, Steve’s jerking off. Steve is jerking off outside the bathroom door on the landing of the attic floor of Bucky’s childhood home. 

Bucky shudders with the aftershock of his own orgasm while he rides out the cresting waves of Steve’s pleasure. He’s probably sitting out there, hand down the front of his pants, eyes closed, head tilted back,  _ shit.  _ If he hadn’t just come, Bucky would be hard again. He can feel Steve’s orgasm like a punch to his stomach, if punches felt  _ awesome _ . The sensation makes Bucky’s eyes flutter shut and another groan fall from his mouth. Just the remnants of Steve’s pleasure is enough to make Bucky’s dick give a twitch of interest, despite the fact that he  _ just  _ came. Shit, what is it going to be like when they actually touch each other like this, feeling everything doubled between them?  _ Fuck _ . 

Turning the water off, Bucky steps out of the shower just as Steve is coming down from the high. The bond goes tight with embarrassment between them, and then a sort of grossed out awkwardness that Bucky isn’t sure what to make of until he remembers that Steve, unlike him, was not in the shower with a convenient drain when he came. A hot blush rises on Bucky’s cheeks, but he locates a washcloth and dampens it under the sink. Wrapping his own towel tightly around his hips and then, self-consciously, slipping back into his t--shirt, Bucky opens the door. It opens with a creak, the hinges probably as old as the house itself. 

He tries not to look at Steve - really, he does. But Steve’s just as he imagined him, leaning against the wall, pants open and pushed low, revealing a line of light hair on what Bucky can see of Steve’s stomach. Awkwardly, he presents Steve with the washcloth. Steve doesn’t meet his eyes as he takes it, quickly wiping off his hand. 

Steve stands, a grimace of discomfort passing over his face, and asks, “Is it alright if I shower now?”

“Um, yeah. Of course - uh you can use all the toiletries and stuff. Oh - and the temperature control is the opposite direction. Move it towards  _ cold  _ to make it warmer. The plumbers fucked it up when they put it in.” Bucky rambles when he’s nervous, but at least he’s not saying anything too embarrassing. In this particular situation, there are at least a hundred worse things he could say. “I’m just gonna go get dressed, but I’ll come sit outside. For the bond, I mean. Not cause - I.” Bucky quickly shuts his mouth and spins towards his bedroom door, leaving Steve behind. 

He wished it was as easy to leave the strained awkwardness of the bond, as bad as it had been that first night, behind him as well. 

Bucky has to dig through his drawers to find clothes appropriate for the eighty degree weather his phone is promising. He doesn’t own any shorts, so he makes do with a pair of lightweight khakis he never wears and a joke t-shirt that Becca got him last Hannukah that reads ‘may the mass times acceleration be with you’. He gets great pleasure in wearing it, because she thought she was going to embarrass him with how nerdy it is, but Bucky has no shame when it comes to that. 

The bond is already pulling painfully at the base of Bucky’s ribs, so he dresses quickly and returns to the landing. The shower turns off a moment later, Steve probably feeling the same discomfort that Bucky is and it’s not long til Steve’s opening the door. And  _ fuck _ , how did Bucky forget how fucking perfect his chest is? 

“Hi,” Bucky says stupidly, a little breathless, eyes fixed on Steve’s abs. He can  _ feel  _ Steve suppressing a chuckle and flushes red again, tearing his gaze off Steve’s body. The bond is still itching uncomfortably and, not thinking, Bucky takes a step closer to Steve. The bond really,  _ really  _ wants Bucky to press himself up against all that naked skin, but Bucky is decidedly not ready for that. He crosses his arms tightly against his chest to resist temptation. He knows that Steve can feel his unease and discomfort, and the man steps back politely, a little frown on his face. 

“I’ll just get dressed,” Steve says, waving his hand at Bucky’s room. Bucky nods quickly and takes a seat on the top step. He’s actually trembling with the need to touch Steve. Fuck. Steve wouldn’t mind - Bucky  _ knows  _ he wouldn’t mind. There’s just something so overwhelming about the intimacy of pressing close when one of them (or both of them) aren’t clothed. Bucky worries his bottom lip with his teeth. 

Steve’s just as speedy dressing as he was showering and soon joins Bucky on the step, pressing their sides together. “It’s okay,” he says, voice barely more than a whisper. “There’s no rush.”

“I know,” Bucky mumbles. “It’s not that I don’t want to - it’s just. I -” Bucky shakes his head, at a loss to explain his strange hangups even to himself. 

“It’s fine,” Steve assures, taking Bucky’s hand and squeezing gently. Bucky leans into him and Steve wraps an arm around his shoulder, tucks his face into Bucky’s still damp hair. A moment later, Steve’s phone buzzes. He fishes it out of his pocket while Bucky watches. “The car is here,” Steve explains, standing up. Bucky follows. 

“Lemme just grab my wallet and keys.” Bucky ducks back into his bedroom to gather the aforementioned items, tucking them into his pockets. He also grabs a pair of socks and some beat up converse sneakers, both of which he starts pulling onto his feet as he hops awkwardly out of the room. Steve grins when he sees him and Bucky glowers playfully back. Steve, of course, has already put his shoes on and tied them neatly. 

“Race you down!” Bucky calls impulsively, jumping three steps down as soon as both his shoes are on. There’s a startle across the bond, like a rock dropping into a still body of water, momentary confusion, and then a sudden and delightful playfulness that feels like wind in his hair. 

Of course, Steve isn’t Captain America for nothing and soon catches up with Bucky. They push playfully at each other as they run down the stairs, and the earlier awkwardness is forgotten. For the first time, Bucky feels like he and Steve might be becoming friends. 

*

The traffic is just as bad as it was yesterday, but they’ve at least missed the morning rush. Steve asks about Bucky’s final project for his engineering degree and Bucky spends most of the ride rambling about that, doing his best to explain everything to Steve. It’s an interesting challenge, since Steve doesn’t have any of the tech knowledge Bucky can usually assume and the last thing Bucky wants to do is make him feel stupid. 

They get to the hospital at precisely three minutes before two and Bucky has to rush them up to the sixth floor, which is where Dr. Rothberg’s office is. Of course, once there, they have to wait another fifteen minutes before they’re called for their appointment. 

Steve’s body is stiff and the bond pulled taut with anxiety as they wait. Luckily, there’s no one else in the waiting room but an old lady who seems to have nodded off, and Bucky can press close to Steve in reassurance. 

“Sorry,” Steve murmurs under his breath. “Doctor visits have never exactly been my favorite thing.”

“S’alright,” Bucky reassures, laying his hand tentatively on Steve’s leg and giving it a little squeeze. “Dr. Rothberg’s really nice. I’ve been seeing him since I was four.” 

Steve nods but Bucky can tell he’s not actually all that reassured. Of course, Bucky doesn’t have a chance to say anything before Dr. Rothberg’s medical assistant calls, “James Barnes?”

Bucky starts to stand and it takes a minute to realize Steve hasn’t followed. 

“C’mon Steve, that’s us.”

Steve frowns as he gets up. “Your name is James?”  

Bucky blinks and thinks back and uh, oops, he had totally failed to mention that, hadn’t he? 

“Oh, uh, yeah, but nobody calls me that. Some kid in my daycare started calling me Bucky when I was like, two, and it just stuck.” He shrugs, knowing it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. 

“Oh.” The bond is unsettled between them, rippling and twisting and honestly, making Bucky a little nauseous. But the medical assistant is there and hurrying them inside and Bucky’s not sure what to say or what to ask. He’s not exactly sure what set Steve off. 

The medical assistant leads them to an exam room. She asks him to hop on the table so she can take his vitals while Steve takes a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs and fidgets nervously. 

Bucky’s vitals all prove to be spectacularly normal, which makes him grin happily. He’s a big fan of normal. 

The medical assistant then turns to Steve. “Can I take your name and history for James’ record?”

Steve’s shoulders jerk back and his spine goes rigid. “Oh, um. Sure. I mean - it’s confidential, right?”

And Bucky suddenly remembers (which, how did he forget?) that Steve is Captain America - famous, and a hero, and possibly the most important political figure in the 20th Century, according to Bucky’s high school history teacher, who definitely had a bit of a crush. 

“Of course, sir. All of this information is kept private under doctor-patient confidentiality laws.”

“Okay. I’m Steve, uh, Steve Rogers.”

“Like Captain America?” The medical assistant, a young twenty something with her blonde hair pulled into a lazy pony tail, asks with a grin. But then her eyes go focused and her jaw drops. “Oh. Oh my gosh - I. Wow.”

Steve’s discomfort takes on a whole new level and he pastes a polite smile on his face that Bucky thinks makes him look like he’s constipated. 

“Can - can I get your autograph?” She asks, fumbling in her pocket for a pen. 

“I think we’ll just wait for Dr. Rothberg to take the rest of Steve’s information, thanks,” Bucky says loudly. The medical assistant startles, like she’d forgotten Bucky was there. 

“Oh. Um. I’m really supposed to -” she can’t take her eyes of Steve and Steve feels like he wants to crawl out of his skin, a sensation like the phantom feeling of bugs on his legs or a hair on his face. 

“Thanks, we’ll just wait for Dr. Rothberg.” Though Bucky keeps his words polite (because his Ma would kill him if he didn’t) his tone is flat and insistent. It’s the same tone his ma would use with teachers who tried to insist that Bucky had to take off his hat and jacket when he was in the classroom, or the principal who had refused to give Bucky permission to miss school when the heat was out in the building. 

“I - okay,” the medical assistant mumbles and stumbles out of the room. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Steve says softly. “I could have handled it.”

“Of course you could have handled it,” Bucky agrees, gently drumming his heels against the metal table. “But she was really rude. People shouldn’t treat you that way.” He meets Steve’s eyes, trying to send Steve his support across the bond. 

Steve shrugs. “Ms. Potts said it might be like this. She said I should get someone to handle all the press and public relations and things like that.” 

“Do you want to do that?” Bucky keeps his voice low and non-judgemental. Bucky’s never cared that much about celebrity culture. He was certainly into movies and music, given that he’d been stuck indoors much of his childhood. According to Imani, he was  _ great  _ at trivia for precisely that reason. But Bucky had never been into the whole hero worship culture that seemed so predominant in his peers. He’d always found it a little gross, truth be told. 

It’s even grosser now that he’s experiencing it through Steve. Steve, who’s polite and kind and unexpectedly shy. He doesn’t want Steve to have to deal with this shit, especially when he’s already feeling nervous. 

“I dunno,” Steve admits. “I know it’s probably necessary, but I just  -  I don’t want to have to deal with it, y’know? I wish people would just leave me alone.”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, not sure what else to say. Steve nods, the bond between them fuzzy with something that feels like regret. “We’ll figure it out,” Bucky promises. 

“Yeah?” Steve perks up and gives Bucky one of those heartbreakingly shy smiles that make the bond go all goopy and sappy between them. 

“Yeah.”

There’s a knock on the door. Steve’s posture goes tight and stiff again, just as Dr. Rothberg’s gray head peeks around the corner. 

“James! What’s this I hear about you finding your soulmate? I’ve got a word or two for them.”

“Hi Dr. Rothberg!” Bucky grins. He really does like his doctor, despite the fact that seeing him is always connected to the worst moments in Bucky’s life. Dr. Rothberg has always been kind to him and never treated him like an idiot, even when he was really little. Dr. Rothberg trusted Bucky to take care of himself and Bucky’s ma and dad had followed his example, making Dr. Rothberg the source of most of the freedoms of Bucky’s childhood. 

“Ah, you must be the soulmate!” Dr. Rothberg exclaims when he sees Steve. “Haven’t you ever heard of a jacket?” Bucky snorts unattractively. Steve’s shoulders relax just a little.  “Now, Annie was very excited to inform me that you’re Captain America, but that’s no excuse for not taking care of yourself, young man. Your health has a direct effect on young James!”

“Yes, sir.” Steve says, eyes wide. 

Bucky rolls his eyes. “He couldn’t exactly help being in the ice, Dr. Rothberg.” 

“Yes, yes,” Dr. Rothberg flaps his wrinkled hands. “Now, hop off that thing, James, and come sit with us. We’ll need to go through the questionnaire and such before I examine you.” 

Bucky does as ordered, taking the seat next to Steve and pressing their shoulder together gently. Steve leans into him, and Bucky can feel the relaxed affection that floods him. 

“Hmph, it doesn’t seem that Annie got your information, Steve, so we’ll have to start with that.”

“She got a little starstruck and wasn’t being very professional,” Bucky explains frankly, even as Steve squirms uncomfortably. 

“Ah well, I apologize for that Steve. I’ll make a note that Marie should be the MA for you for follow up visits. She’s unflappable.” 

After it becomes clear that Steve doesn’t know how to respond to that, Bucky gives a quick, “Thanks.”

“Of course. Now, let’s jump right in, Steve. When did your mark appear?”

“Uh - it was there when I woke up from the ice,” Steve explains. 

“Right, the ice. Now, I only saw some of the news - something about you being preserved by the ice?”

“Yes, sir.” The bond gets cold and it takes a minute for Bucky to realize it’s fear making in that way, because he’s still so used to the bond being permanently cold. Bucky reaches out and takes Steve’s hand and Steve shoots him a grateful smile. 

“That would certainly explain James’s hypothermia.” Dr. Rothberg says, nodding repeatedly while he types notes on his computer. 

“I didn’t know that - I didn’t have a soulmate before I went into the ice.” Steve sends apologies down the bond, frantic and guilty. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Bucky murmurs quietly. “You didn’t choose that.”

“James is right, of course,” Dr. Rothberg adds. “There is nothing that you could have done. And it’s resolved now with no real harm to James, which is the most important thing. I’m really more interested in how it will affect your developing bond, so let’s get to that. When did you meet?”

“Two days ago,” Bucky informs. “Around two.”

Dr. Rothberg makes an affirmative sound. “And how much contact has the bond been demanding?”

“Um,” Bucky mumbles, not precisely sure how to answer that question. 

“Do you always have to be in the same room?” Dr. Rothberg clarifies. “And if you’re in the same room, is it alright to be across the room from each other or do you want or need to be touching?”

Steve’s still a little stiff and shy beside him, so Bucky answers again. “We were able to be in different rooms to shower yesterday and today. Yesterday we had to have the door open and talk to each other, though. Even five minutes with the door closed was too much. Today it was - fifteen minutes, maybe? And I guess we’re mostly touching or close to each other when we’re in the same room. But, I mean. It was okay when I was sitting on the table before you came in, but that’s still pretty close.”

“Good, good,” Dr. Rothberg mutters. “Strong bond, like we predicted, hmm? And how about your sense of each other? Can you tell what the other is feeling at all?”

“All the time,” Bucky says immediately. “Right from the beginning. The sense is getting clearer, though. At least, that’s how it’s been for me.”

“Yeah,” Steve adds. “That’s how it is for me too. But the sensations still don’t always make sense right away.”

“Hm! That’s a much quicker progression than most people’s bonds, but I suppose that’s no great surprise, given your situation. What about physical sensations?”

“Yes,” Bucky’s voice is emphatic. “Steve is hungry  _ all the time _ .” 

“ _ Bucky _ ,” Steve hisses, embarrassment coloring his tone, but Dr. Rothberg just laughs. “It’s my metabolism,” Steve hurries to explain. “It runs faster so I have an increased caloric intake.”

“Ah, yes, that makes sense,” Dr. Rothberg says with a nod. “We’ll just watch James’s weight, make sure he’s not doing too much sympathy eating.” 

Bucky blushes, but Steve relaxes a little, so he doesn’t really mind. Bucky’s called it sympathy eating too, even though sympathy eating usually happens when one bond member is pregnant, or during puberty, a time Bucky distinctly remembers having an appetite not unlike Steve’s. 

“Your vitals probably have different ‘good’ ranges,” Dr. Rothberg turns his muddy green eyes on Steve, curiosity written all over his face. “Do you have a doctor that I could consult with or records that should be transferred?”

“I - uh,” Steve pauses, chewing on something in his head. “I can’t give you my records, but I’ll talk to the SHIELD doctors and see what I can do about just my basic info.”

Bucky frowns a little at that and Steve turns to him to elaborate. “People have tried to recreate the serum, I guess. So my medical records are classified, just so people don’t try to use my data for that.” 

“Oh, I guess that makes sense. But Dr. Rothberg wouldn’t -”

“I don’t think he would,” Steve rushes to assure. “It’s just - I have to be careful, to make sure things are secure, you know? Cause people can - um, illegally access information on computers right?”

“Oh, yeah.” 

“I understand,” Dr. Rothberg interjects. “Certainly, we must make sure that your information is secure. Perhaps today I can just take your vitals and you can tell me if they fall within normal range for you?”

“I can do that,” Steve agrees with a firm nod. 

“Excellent, excellent. We’ll get to that in just a moment. Now, where was I...ah, yes. What about touch?”

“What  _ about  _ touch?” Bucky repeats, not sure exactly what Dr. Rothberg is asking. 

“You’ve said that you’re often in close proximity, but I’m wondering how often you’re touching?”

“Uh, most of the time, I guess.” Bucky rubs the back of his head, thinking back. 

“Good! And you slept in the same bed the last two nights?”

Bucky nods. This is yet another thing that’s not covered in all the movies and books and Bucky wonders if they’re getting more questions because of his mirroring syndrome or if all new soulmates go through this with their doctors. The questions, of course, only get more personal. 

“And have you been intimate?” 

Steve and Bucky both blush deeply, Steve all the way down his neck and to the tips of his ears. Bucky doesn’t think he’s actually seen Steve blush that hard before. 

He kind of likes it. 

Which is probably weird. 

“No,” Bucky says, voice squeakier than he’d really like to admit. Dr. Rothberg’s eyebrows do that thing where the come really far down over his eyes. As a child, Bucky had asked his ma if Dr. Rothberg’s eyebrows were actually caterpillars that accidentally got glued to his face. That association has never really faded for him. 

“No?”

“ _ No. _ ” Bucky repeats. The squirmy, uncomfortable feeling he gets every time the topic comes up is taking up residence in Bucky’s stomach. Dr. Rothberg studies him for a moment. 

“Well, alright. Most bonds are consummated within a week and given the speed with which the rest of your bond is progressing, I just assumed…”

Bucky fixes his eyes on the ground. He doesn’t want to talk about this. 

“But there’s no right or wrong timeline for intimacy.” Dr. Rothberg’s voice is very firm, and he gives them a very serious look from under his eyebrows. Suddenly, the doctor claps his hands, making both Steve and Bucky jump in surprise. 

“Now! Steve, if you would just hop up on the table here, we’ll get your vitals and then we can move onto the physical exam.”

Aw, fuck. 

Somehow, Bucky hadn’t thought about the fact that a full physical is required during a post-meet check up. And a physical is definitely going to involve at least partial nudity, and Bucky has already proved that he doesn’t handle a half-naked Steve well. 

“Um, maybe I should wait outside?” Bucky mumbles. 

“That will affect Steve’s vitals,” Dr. Rothberg tells him, peering down his long nose at Bucky. “But if the two of you would like some privacy, you can step out during the exam and history.”

Bucky nods quickly. He glances over at Steve, feeling a little nervous. He doesn’t want to offend Steve or make things harder for him, but Steve’s expression is relieved and the bond is relaxed and open between them. Bucky settles back in the uncomfortable chair as Steve gets up on the table. It looks more than a little ridiculous, because while Dr. Rothberg isn’t a small man, Steve towers over just about everyone  _ without  _ sitting on a raised table. 

Bucky watches, allowing himself to drift a little, while Dr. Rothberg takes Steve’s vitals, quietly checking each number with Steve. He and Steve should fill out their match papers today. His ma had said she’d print them out for him, so they could probably do that when they got home. And they really do need to talk about what kind of dedication ceremony they want, or Bucky’s ma will just plan the whole thing without them. Bucky doesn’t want to force the big Jewish shebang on Steve if that’s not what he wants. 

“Alright James, why don’t you step out now,” Dr. Rothberg says, surprising Bucky out of his thoughts. Bucky nods and gets to his feet, heading for the door. “And I’ll step out with you. Steve, if you could get undressed? You may leave your undergarments on and there’s a gown if you’d feel more comfortable. You boys let me know if the distance starts to make you uncomfortable, now!”

“We will,” Bucky promises, gently closing the door behind him. The bond immediately starts itching, but it’s not uncomfortable yet. Bucky settles on the floor with his back pressed against the wall while Dr. Rothberg ducks down the hall to talk to a nurse. He slips his phone out of his pocket. There are a couple texts waiting for him. 

_ Did you get to your appointment alright?  _ from his Ma, which he quickly responds too. 

Paul sent  _ where the hell you been? drinks tonight? _

Bucky taps out a quick  _ sry can’t  _ to Paul, hesitating about saying more. He hasn’t really talked to Steve about what he should say to people. The non-disclosure agreement he’d signed had pretty strict guidelines for repeating anything he saw or heard in the Tower, but didn’t address his and Steve’s bond. Finally Bucky adds  _ life been a little crazy, tell you more when I can.  _

Dr. Rothberg returns a moment later, pauses to give Bucky a smile while he knocks on the door, and then slips through. Bucky does not think about Steve sitting in his underwear just beyond the door.

Imani’s sent a couple text checking in too, so he takes the time to answer her questions (where appropriate - he firmly doesn’t answer the question  _ hows the sex? _ ). Bernie hasn’t sent any texts, just a compilation of cat fail vines, which is a welcome distraction. As the bond starts to get a little more demanding, Bucky hunts down a series of dog fails to send back to Bernie. 

Steve’s side of the bond fluctuates between embarrassment and mild discomfort, though he feels relaxed enough that Bucky’s not really worried about it. 

Bucky manages to make it ten more minutes by playing doodlejump on his phone, but finally he has to stand up and knock on the door, the mild itching having turned into a stinging sensation, and then an ache accompanied by dizziness. Dr. Rothberg opens the door so quickly that Bucky knows he must have already been approaching it - and yeah, Steve hops up and hurries over to Bucky’s side. Bucky swings his arms around Steve’s neck, burying his face in Steve’s shoulder. 

“That was about 25 minutes,” Dr. Rothberg says gently as Bucky breathes Steve in. Steve’s arms are tight around him and Bucky can feel where Steve’s nose is pressing into his hair, which should be weird and kinda gross, but just feels nice. “That’s longer than you’ve gone before, correct?”

“Uh huh,” Bucky mumbles. The bond, tightened into a vice by the time spent apart, starts to relax between them. Steve’s hand runs down Bucky’s back, inciting memories of the night before which is completely unhelpful. 

“That is significantly shorter than the normal tolerable length,” Dr. Rothberg says thoughtfully. “And touch is required to soothe the bond after distance?”

“Yeah.” Bucky pulls back a little, though he keeps his arms draped on Steve’s shoulders. 

“And how would it react if you separated again right now? I have James’ history, of course, but he will also need an exam.” Bucky’s hands tighten on Steve without Bucky intending it. “Ah, not so good then.” 

“Sorry, sir.” Steve says. He’s nervous and mildly embarrassed, feelings that are starting to make Bucky’s stomach feel like he had a bowl full of worms for breakfast. 

“No, no! No apologies for your bond. Unfortunately, I do have another appointment after this, otherwise I’d be happy to give you the time you need.”

“He can stay,” Bucky mumbles, mostly speaking into Steve’s chest. 

Dr. Rothberg makes an inquisitive noise, so Bucky picks his chin up and repeats himself. 

“If you’re certain,” Dr. Rothberg furrows his eyebrows again, giving Bucky his  _ I’m not going to take any nonsense  _ expression. 

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Bucky says, regretfully pulling away from Steve. 

“Alright then!” Dr. Rothberg claps, making Bucky jump. “James will have to get undressed - do you want Steve to step out for that?”

Bucky hesitates, plucking nervously at the hem of his t-shirt. They haven’t really seen each other undressed, except for coming in and out of shower, aw, shit now he’s thinking of them  _ coming  _ in and out of the shower that morning, which is the opposite of helpful. At the same time, the bond really doesn’t want them to separate right now.  

“I can turn around?” Steve offers quietly. “Or close my eyes?”

“You don’t mind?” Bucky asks, feeling more than a little pathetic. Steve’s his soulmate. Bucky has literally been waiting his entire life to have him there with him, and suddenly he’s developed stupid body hang ups? It’s fucking ridiculous. Bucky crosses his arms uncomfortably. 

“Of course I don’t mind,” Steve murmurs. There’s hesitation along the bond, a feeling like running your fingers over a keyboard as you search for words, and then Steve leans in and kisses Bucky gently. Bucky blushes, aware of Dr. Rothberg’s presence, but accepts the kiss gratefully. When he pulls back, Steve has this adorable blush across the bridge of his nose and on the tips of his hears.  Sometimes Bucky just wants to squish this giant, adorable man. 

“Very good, I’ll just step out for a moment to let you get changed, James.” 

As Dr. Rothberg steps out of the room, Steve settles back in one of the chairs, closing his eyes pointedly. For a minute, Bucky forgets that he’s supposed to be getting changed and just stares at Steve. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more beautiful man, and he’s so good and shy and sweet, too. Bucky doesn’t know what he did to get so lucky, but he’s goddamn grateful. Steve’s blush darkens under Bucky’s gaze, and he finally offers an embarrassed, “ _ Buck, _ ” which does things to Bucky’s insides. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes, but he’s not really and he can tell Steve knows that. Bucky toes his shoes off and tugs his t-shirt over his head, setting it on the chair next to Steve. He fiddles with his button for a minute, a blush building on his before he finally strips his pants off too. Hopping up on the table, Bucky drums his heels back against the metal structure. As a child, he’d always had to be in this room, because it was one of the few that had independent temperature control, so Dr. Rothberg could make it warm enough that Bucky could get undressed. The temperature hasn’t been fiddled with today, though, and Bucky shivers a little in the air conditioned room. Honestly, that’s kind of nice - to be cold and not have to worry about being too cold. 

Dr. Rothberg returns soon and they proceed quickly through Bucky’s physical. They’re both still getting used to Bucky’s new temperature and the ways it affects his body - his warm, pink hands and toes that don’t always need to be tucked into socks. (Bucky thinks it’s affected the size of his dick, but he doesn’t bring that up.) It even affects things like his digestion and weight. 

When Dr. Rothberg is content with the exam, he lets Bucky get dressed, and then sits them both down to discuss their burgeoning bond. 

“Everything looks good, proceeding as it should. I’m a little concerned that it’s not allowing you to be apart - that’s not good for relationships, but it’s also not surprising given the nature of James’ mirroring syndrome. I want you to try and increase the time spent apart a little each day. Not to the point of discomfort, but just to stretch the bond a little. Do you boys have any questions or concerns?” 

Bucky fidgets, thinking. He’s not all that worried about the bond - it’s a lot more comfortable now than it has ever been.

“There -” Steve starts but then stops to chew on his lip. “There are some things I don’t want Bucky to have to feel. Things from my past - painful things. Is there a way I can…” 

That hurts. Bucky wants to share everything with Steve and he wants Steve to trust him with everything, so there’s a part of him that can’t help but feel a little hurt that Steve doesn’t trust him with these things. Most of the pain though, is just knowing that Steve has things that hurt him so much. 

Dr. Rothberg shakes his head slowly. “People aren’t supposed to function on their own. We all need to share these things. That’s why we have soulmates. Let Bucky help you carry those things and they’ll feel less painful to you both.”

Reaching out and taking Steve’s hand, Bucky murmurs, “I want to help you with those things, Steve. I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide from me.”

“I - I’m not used to…” Steve trails off, but Bucky feels the rest of the sentence like a coal rolling across the bond.  _ I’m not used to having people who want to help me. I’m not used to not being alone.  _

Bucky squeezes his hand and promises, “We’ll figure it out.”

Steve nods, ducking his chin so Bucky can’t see his eyes, but that’s alright. Steve can’t really hide from him, so if he needs to feel like he can’t be seen for a few minutes, Bucky understands. The constant awareness can be a lot and lots of people struggle with that in the early days of the bond. It’s not something Bucky experiences, but that doesn’t mean he can’t understand. 

“You’re going to be just fine,” Dr. Rothberg says staunchly, smiling gently at them from under his caterpillar eyebrows. “You’re doing everything just right. We’ll schedule a follow up a few weeks from now, but I have every confidence that everything will go smoothly now.”


	7. or the way he covers up that he's the honest goods?

They schedule their follow-up appointment and then make their way down to the front entrance. Bucky chatters about unimportant things and Steve’s shoulders relax. But when they approach the door there’s an unexpected roar of noise and then flashing lights everywhere. People are screaming Steve’s name and shoving mics in their faces and shouting demanding questions. 

“Captain Rogers is this your soulmate?!”

“Captain America! Captain America! Why didn’t you tell anyone you had a mark?!”

“Did you purposefully hide your mark because you were ashamed?!”

“How do you know he’s not a fake?”

Panic flares across the bond before settling into a somewhat alarming stillness and focus. Steve puts an arm around Bucky’s shoulder and hurriedly whispers into his ear, “Keep your face down and keep moving. We have to get through the crowd to the car.”

Bucky follows Steve’s directions as best he can, though some of the photographers have crouched on the ground to take a picture of his face. Bucky tucks his face against Steve’s chest instead, but he thinks it’s probably too late for that to help anything. 

Bucky doesn’t know if he’s ever felt so exposed. It makes him feel violated in a way that he doesn’t really have words for. The whole experience has his skin itching and his breath coming a little too fast, but Steve’s arm is strong where it rests on his shoulder, and that makes him feel a little better. 

It’s all kind of a blur and to be honest, Bucky’s not exactly sure how they make it back to the car, but they get there somehow. Steve immediately whips his phone out, though happily he keeps his other arm around Bucky. 

“I have to call Pepper and let her know.” Now that they’re out of the crowd, there’s encroaching fear and guilt and upset oozing like a wound that didn’t heal quite right. “I don’t know how they found out,” Steve’s voice cracks a little, “I thought we’d have more time. I’m so sorry, Bucky.”

“It’s alright,” Bucky says. “It’s going to be fine. We’ll figure it out.”

Bucky presses close, hoping the physical contact will help calm Steve down. Steve closes his eyes and rests his cheek on the top of Bucky’s head. “Thank you,” he whispers and the bond fills with the sensation of a fire crackling to life. 

The still moment sits in direct comparison to the harried and frantic experience with the reporters and Bucky feels a sharp pang of loss when Steve draws away. He’s not sure if the feeling came from him or from Steve or if formed somewhere in the middle. 

Bucky lets his thoughts drift a little instead of paying attention to Steve’s conversation with Pepper. Shit. He needs to call his ma. And Paul and Bernie, who will be pissed that Bucky didn’t tell them himself. He pulls out his cell and sends a quick message to his mom, telling her what happened and that Steve is dealing with it. 

She messages back  _ neighbors texted there r reporters at house _ . Fucking hell, Bucky thinks, how did they move so quickly? How did they even find out? 

The answer comes to him as he turns to let Steve know about the situation at home. The medical assistant. What was her name? Fucking Annie, she must have tweeted or told a friend or something. The internet functions at hyper speed, it’s no wonder that things spread so quickly. A scowl crosses Bucky’s face and he makes a mental note to make sure that’s what happened and then get her very fired by Dr. Rothberg. 

“Steve?” Bucky interrupts quietly, tapping Steve’s chest. Which,  _ wow _ , his pecs are bouncy. But it’s not the time to be thinking about that. 

“One sec, Pepper,” Steve says and then covers the bottom of the phone as he turns his attention to Bucky. “What’s wrong?”

“Ma says there are reporters at the house.”

Steve’s expression goes horrified, the pond scum guilt turning into something solid and implacable. “Oh no, oh I’m so sorry Bucky. I can’t believe they would - “ Steve cuts himself off and his jaw tenses and his eyes go steely. He uncovers the phone. “Pepper, there are reporters at Bucky’s house. Can we make them move?”

Bucky settles back into his seat, Steve’s arm still curved around his shoulders, and texts Paul and Bernie. 

_ This isn’t how I wanted to tell you, but reporters found out _

_ My soulmate is Steve Rogers, Captain America _

It only takes a few seconds for Paul to respond. 

_!!!!!! Congrats man! So glad u found him,  _ quickly followed by,  _ do u think i can meet black widow???? _

Bucky snorts a little, because  _ Paul _ . 

_ Thx man,  _ he texts back.  _ I’ll see what i can do! _

Bernie’s message comes a few moments later and is, of course, much more serious. 

_ I’m glad you connected with your soulmate! Do you like him? Is he nice to you? This media situation is a nightmare, let me know what I can do.  _

Bernie studied Public Relations and Journalism at Columbia, so the offer’s a serious one and it made Bucky smile, knowing that Bernie would do whatever they could to make this situation even a little easier for him. 

_ Will do. Steve’s talking to his people now.  _ The critical bits taken care of, Bucky responds to the other part of their message.  _ He’s great. Nothing like I would have thought. He’s really sweet and respectful. _

_ I’m so glad. I can’t wait to meet him! _ Bucky smiles kind of dopily down at his phone. He has really great friends. 

Steve’s hung up with Pepper, but is now talking to somebody named Maria, his voice tight and sharp. They’re talking about security issues, which makes Bucky’s heart rate leap uncomfortably so he tucks his face into Steve’s chest and tries not to listen. 

When Bucky had been trying desperately to get in touch with Steve, after he’d figured out that Steve was his soulmate, he’d come head to head with how famous Steve is. But somehow, in all of it, he hadn’t really thought about it. He’d just been so excited to meet his soulmate, to finally know his other half in the way he’d been waiting for his entire life. 

So Bucky’s completely unprepared for this and there’s a hundred questions racing through his mind. He’s worried about his family and his and Steve’s relationship, he’s angry because it all makes Steve so uncomfortable. He craves the quiet privacy of shared moments with Steve - riding the winding roads out to Montauk, kissing in the kitchen that morning. He and Steve still have so much left to discover about each other and Bucky doesn’t want that to be interrupted by anyone, let alone strangers with their flashing cameras and intrusive questions. 

It feels, uncomfortably, like the public has a stake in their relationship, which is the last thing Bucky wants. Bucky doesn’t want to share Steve - not with anyone, let alone the vultures of the press.  He’s been waiting for Steve for so long, and he feels like he’s earned the right to be a little selfish. 

Steve hangs up the phone and sighs, a big, gusty thing that Bucky feels across his cheeks and along the bond. 

“I’m really sorry, Bucky. I didn’t want this - I’m sorry they’re invading your life like this, it’s not fair, it’s not right. Pepper says we can get them to move away from your house, but that’s about it. I should maybe go back to the tower, I don’t want your parents to be bothered or your sisters or - ”

“Take a breath, Steve,” Bucky reminds, laying a gentle hand on Steve’s cheek. Steve’s eyes flutter shut and he takes a deep, heaving breath. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t want them there anymore than I did. They’re fucking vultures and it’s not a great situation, but that has nothing to do with you. People should respect you enough to stay the fuck away.” 

Steve huffs a laugh and Bucky can feel some of the tension uncoiling, the rope on the dock unwinding as Steve relaxes. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Bucky promises quietly. 

Steve shakes his head a little, but the feeling in the bond is sunshine dancing on water, a sort of wondrous admiration that makes Bucky squirm a little and a blush come to his cheeks. 

“You’re so - “ Steve searches for the word and Bucky can actually feel it in his brain, like shuffling through files, “brave. Confident. I don’t know how you stay so sure.” 

Bucky’s blush deepens, because here’s Steve, an actual hero to millions of people, who fights aliens and Nazis, who sacrificed his life to save New York, calling Bucky, who’s just a kid from Brooklyn, brave.

“I just believe in us, is all.”

A bud unfurls, fresh pink petals reaching for the sun, and Steve kisses him. 

*

By the time Bucky and Steve make it back to Bucky’s house, the reporters have been pressed back to the ends of the streets. There’s no sign of guards or police or anything, but they’re clearly respecting some sort of imposed boundary. The car gets mobbed when it turns on to the road, but Bucky’s house is halfway down and there aren’t any reporters waiting for them when they climb out of the car. Still, they hurry inside. 

None of the girls are home yet - Lizzie will still be at ballet, Becca’s at softball practice. Molly’s got soccer on Thursday afternoons, and Samantha’s got a photography class that goes til the end of May - and Bucky’s parents won’t be home until they’ve finished gathering up the girls and carpooling them and their friends to their various destinations. 

Bucky and Steve stand in the entrance way, looking at each other. Bucky licks his lips and mostly against his will, his eyes fall to Steve’s mouth. The bond goes hot and liquid between them and Steve’s eyes go dark. He takes a step closer, hand reaching out to touch Bucky. 

“We should do our paperwork,” Bucky blurts out. Confusion curls across the bond, the feeling of getting your hands tangled in your sleeves while trying to take a shirt off, and Bucky can see the question forming on Steve’s face. 

It’s not that Bucky doesn’t want to make out with Steve. He really,  _ really  _ does. It’s just... well, he’s not sure he’s ready  for more than that and he can tell that Steve is. And while he knows that Steve would never pressure him into anything, Bucky wants to make Steve feel good and that’s a sort of pressure all on it’s own. 

“Okay,” Steve says gently, like he’s reading the words from Bucky’s head. Even without the specifics, the bond is probably telling him all he needs to know. Bucky blushes a little. 

“Ma said she left them in Dad’s office for us,” Bucky mumbles. He kicks off his shoes, leaving them in a messy pile by the door. Steve follows his lead, although a little more neatly. Dad’s office is on the second floor, so Bucky heads upstairs, Steve a pace behind him. “Um, and you said you had other papers to fill out? Do you have them on an email or anything? We can print them out.”

Steve’s side of the bond does that weird shifty thing it always does when people talked about tech Steve isn’t completely sure he understands. Bucky opens his mouth to explain, but Steve mumbles, “I have to do them on SHIELD’s um - server? I think it’s called. Can I go grab my laptop?”

“Of course!” Bucky says. “I’ll grab the papers and meet you in my room?”

“Okay,” Steve smiles that adorable soft little smile that makes Bucky want to melt into a pile of goo. 

Bucky ducks into his Dad’s office, which is, predictably, a total disaster. He shuffles through papers on his dad’s desk and eventually finds the papers under yesterday’s newspaper which bears the title  _ String of Kidnappings Continue _ . Bucky counts the papers to make sure he’s got them all and then heads out the door, bounding up the steps. 

Steve has settled on the floor, too polite to use Bucky’s desk. Bucky rolls his eyes fondly and plops down next to him. He nudges Steve with his shoulder and smiles at him. Steve smiles back and plants a gentle kiss on Bucky’s lips, which inevitably makes Bucky blush and smile dopily at his lap. 

It’s nice, just to sit there together, quietly filling in their paperwork. And it’s kinda a fun way to get to know each other too, Bucky discovers. All sorts of little things you just forget to ask, because they don’t really matter in day to day life. Like their birthdays - Bucky knows Steve’s of course, but now Steve knows Bucky’s (and his ma’s, dad’s and all of his sisters’, though Bucky’s not sure why the Bond Registration Office needs to know all that). 

Bucky gets to hear a little more about Steve’s ma and dad too. Steve’s subdued but not sad as he talks about them and there’s a feeling like putting on a shirt just out of the dryer settling over Bucky’s skin. 

“People don’t really ask,” Steve adds after a moment. “For everyone here it’s been so long since they died, and that’s if they think about my family at all. But it’s only been a few years for me. And my ma - she was all I had, really.”

Bucky presses close because there aren’t really words. He just tries to send the warm shirt feeling back at Steve, feeling enormously affectionate and awed that he gets a man like Steve, who’s so kind and good and loving. 

“You’ve got me now,” Bucky tells him. “And my family, too.” 

“I know.” Steve wraps an arm around Bucky and tucks him close, pressing a kiss to the crown of Bucky’s head. It should feel weird, it should remind him of his parents. But it doesn’t. 

*

They’re interrupted by pounding feet on the stairs, which gives them a few seconds warning before Samantha and Molly burst through Bucky’s bedroom door. 

“Dinner time!” Molly announces, throwing herself into Bucky’s lap.

“Reporters came to my school!” Samantha says excitedly. Steve cringes, pond scum on the bond again. “Principle Abernathy made them leave. She called them all sorts of names  _ and  _ cursed. It was  _ great. _ ”

Bucky takes Steve’s hand and squeezes it strongly before getting to his feet, Molly in his arms. 

“Will you sit next to me at dinner, Steve?” Molly asks. 

Steve smiles that shy, fond little thing and Bucky melts into a puddle. “Sure thing, Molly.”

“You can call me Mollypop.” Molly’s usually boisterous voice is a little nervous and surprise shoots through Bucky. Molly doesn’t let anyone out of the family call her by that nickname. Steve must get some sense of that over the bond. Loss and longing mingle with a deep, astonished sort of joy in Steve’s side of the bond, spilling over into Bucky and making him fall a little deeper in love with Steve. 

“Okay Mollypop.” Steve’s voice mirrors Molly’s and Bucky really just wants to squish them both. If he had ovaries, they’d be exploding right now. 

Samantha, not content with being ignored for long, pipes up. “I want you to sit next to me too!” 

“Okay,” Steve says and then promptly realizes that means he and Bucky can’t sit next to each other, a realization that feels a bit like stepping in an unexpected puddle. 

“How ‘bout you take turns?” Bucky recommends, leading them down the stairs. “Molly, you sat next to Steve last night, so why don’t you let Samantha sit next to him today?”

Molly sighs and her face settles into a truly dangerous pout. Steve gets maybe a little bit panicked, which makes Bucky snort back a laugh. “I guess,” she moans, drawing out the word. 

“Steve’s not going anywhere,” Bucky grins and ruffles his sister’s hair. “He’s gonna be here a long, long time.”

“Forever and ever?” Molly asks. The bond thickens suddenly, this immense well of emotion - gratitude and fear and joy and affection and something that might be love - flooding Bucky, making it hard for him to catch his breath. 

“Yeah.” Bucky says breathlessly, eyes fixed on Steve’s. “Forever and ever.” 

*

Despite the shit show with the press, the next couple days are oddly peaceful and comfortable. Steve and Bucky bum around the house, getting Steve caught up on the seventy years of pop culture that he missed. Luckily, Bucky was, by necessity, a bit of a couch potato as a kid and has lots of opinions about what Steve should watch and what’s overrated. 

He is insistent that, where applicable, Steve read the books before he watches the movies, so they sometimes wander out to the library. It’s kind of fun to scrounge up baseball caps and sunglasses and go incognito for a bit, Bucky’s not going to lie. 

They have to do it more and more as the days pass, because Steve starts getting really restless, a buzzing sort of energy under his skin that keeps both of them from settling. It’s a little frustrating, really, because Steve needs a  _ lot  _ of activity to help him calm down, and there’s no way Bucky can keep up with a super soldier even if he tried. 

The best compromise they’ve found is making out. A lot. 

Bucky thinks that sex would probably be great for settling Steve, but he’s still not ready for that. He thinks about it more than he really should and there’s been more than one awkward jerk off session with them both in different rooms. Bucky is always in a low level state of arousal and it’s kind of fucking with his head. 

Plus, he knows Steve wants to go further than they have, but Bucky keeps getting stuck at second base. It’s not that he doesn’t want Steve to touch him...y’know,  _ there _ . But he every time Steve’s hands come to rest at the top of his pants, he freezes up. Steve’s a total gentleman about it, of course, and he would never push Bucky, Bucky knows that. He’s not really sure why he feels the way that he does, he just  _ does.  _

Bucky tries to busy himself with other things. Ma takes their paperwork down to city hall, so they’re officially registered, which means that Bucky has to send out an announcement to his whole family. (Ma has three brothers and Dad has a sister, a brother, and two half-siblings, and all of them have kids, so it’s not like it’s a small number.) 

That part is kind of fun, actually. It’s nice to finally have a use for that dedication ceremony pinterest board he definitely doesn't have. He and Ma start planning the ceremony, too, but that’s a little more complicated because… well, because Steve doesn’t really have anybody. There’s his team mates, but Steve’s still awkward as hell around them. And there’s Darcy, who Bucky thinks is the closest thing to a friend that Steve really has. 

But Bucky doesn’t want Steve to feel uncomfortable at the ceremony, if it’s all just Bucky’s friends and family. He wants Steve to have people there too, people who matter to him. 

“You matter to me,” Steve says when Bucky tells him that and well. Then they’re too distracted making out to really talk about it at all. 

There are a lot of practical things to consider too, like where they’re going to live, ‘cause they can’t keep living in Bucky’s parents’ house forever. Bucky really doesn’t want to go back to the Tower, though, with it’s impersonal hotel room vibe and the antagonistic Tony Stark and the crowd of strangers who don’t know what to do with each other. 

Bucky’s just starting to hear back from his first round of job interviews, which is kind of amazing and terrifying all at the same time. He’s a little flattered and embarrassed by how many offers he’s getting, but he guesses that’s why his parents paid for his quarter of a million dollar degree  _ and  _ supported him so he could take unpaid internships the last three summers. The job that’s most interesting to him is this sort of fellowship thing where he’d get to work in aerospace engineering which is fucking awesome, but it’s all the way in D.C., and he’s not sure how he feels about moving that far from his family. Plus, he’s not sure Steve’s actually allowed to move away from the other Avengers or not. It doesn’t feel right to bring it all up yet, not when everything is so new. 

Meanwhile, they’ve been practicing being apart like Dr. Rothberg recommended. By the next Thursday, they’re up to almost an hour and a half, which helps a lot. Steve can go for a run in the morning while Bucky sleeps in, for example. 

On Wednesday, Bucky’s friends come over for brunch after Steve’s morning run. Steve’s adorably nervous, fixing his hair in front of the mirror for entirely too long. He’s also put on a button down, which he tucked anxiously into the jeans Bucky talked him into. 

“They’re nice,” Bucky promises, coming up behind Steve and wrapping his arms around him. “And they’re going to love you.” 

Steve leans back into Bucky’s touch. He’s still warm from his shower and he smells like Bucky’s shampoo, which does weird things to Bucky’s insides. Steve shrugs a little, and the hesitancy he feels tugs strangely at the bond, almost like a raindrop pulling  _ upwards  _ on your skin. Bucky hugs him a little tighter. 

“They’re really excited to meet you.” The bond does something weird, a sort of lack of surprise and a sinking feeling all at once. It takes Bucky a minute to figure it out.  “‘Cause you’re my soulmate, you doofus,” he says playfully, nudging Steve with his chin, “not cause you’re Captain America. They don’t care about that. I mean - well, they all want to meet Black Widow, but that’s not really about you.”

Steve relaxes a little and huffs a laugh. 

“She’s kind of terrifying,” Steve says, leaning a little more of his weight into Bucky. It thrills Bucky that Steve trusts him to take it, to support him, even just a little. 

“Yeah, I bet. Now, c’mon. You’re starving. This brunch thing isn’t so good for you, huh?” 

Steve shrugs a little and rearranges them, so they can walk down the stairs together. “I can have first breakfast and brunch next time.”

Bucky laughs, “You eat like a hobbit. I love it.”

“Mmm, elevenses.” An adorable smile pulls at Steve’s cheeks and he gives Bucky a teasing sort of look. God, all that brawn  _ and _ nerdy enough to reference the Hobbit, too. How on earth did Bucky get so lucky? 

“C’mon, let’s go feed you Bilbo.” Steve’s eyes crinkle up and sunshine sparkles on water. 

Bucky and Steve put together a quick breakfast for Steve to eat while they’re making french toast, fruit salad, and mimosas, cause they’re real adults now. Bucky also puts Molly’s cocoa puffs on the table for Bernie and him. It’s been tradition since the first time they got really drunk together and the only food in Bernie’s room the next morning was cocoa puffs. It’s kinda their thing. 

Bucky explains this to Steve while scarfs down his first breakfast, still oddly self-conscious of how much he has to eat to maintain his souped up metabolism. 

“Y’know, they’re not going to say anything,” Bucky says during a lull in the conversation. Steve glances up, puzzlement twisting the bond like the quizzical tilt of a child’s head. “My friends. But anyone, really. About how much you need to eat, I mean.” Bucky gestures with the spatula he’s using to flip french toast. 

Steve shrugs, but Bucky gets the sense he’s going to say more once he’s finished chewing his mouthful, so Bucky keeps his mouth closed and waits. 

“Growing up there was never enough to eat,” Steve says, voice a little sad and fuzzy, like it gets when he talks about the past. “I didn’t need much, then, ‘cause I was so little. It was the only way I could really help my ma sometimes, by just… not eating seconds or skipping lunch some days. My medicine cost a lot, and I had to have these awful liver supplements that cost an arm and a leg when they first came out. And then I was big and I just...had to eat so much more. More than everyone it seemed. And it never seemed right in the war, when I was getting two or three C-Rations to everyone else’s one.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Bucky says, turning around and propping himself up against the counter. He looks at Steve, carefully clearing the last bit of egg from his plate. “But there’s no reason for you to skip meals now. ‘Specially not with my ma around.”

Steve grins. They’re a week into this thing, and Steve’s already got a healthy admiration of Bucky’s ma, one that is quickly turning to affection and trust, which isn’t a thing Steve feels about a lot of people. It makes Bucky feel all sorts of  _ things  _ that Steve’s bonding with his ma, he’s not gonna lie. 

They’re sitting there, smiling at each other kinda dopily, when the doorbell rings. Steve stiffens right up and shit, Bucky hates that he does that. 

“Here, you make sure this batch doesn’t burn, I’ll go let them in.” When Steve comes over to grab the spatula, he reels Bucky in for a kiss. As often happens, the quick peck turns into a heady kiss all too quickly and then the bell is being pressed over and over again, like Bucky’s friends are no older than Molly. Bucky pulls back, rolling his eyes and licking his lips. 

How did he go so long without kissing? Bucky shakes himself out of his Steve-induced haze and ducks out of the kitchen and towards the front door. Paul’s the one who’s been pressing the doorbell over and over, no surprise there. 

“Hi guys!” Bucky grins, feeling almost overwhelmingly happy. His friends are here. His soulmate is in the kitchen. Everything is wonderful. 

Imani pushes forward for a tight hug, Bernie and Paul following in turn. They’re all babbling greetings to him in a familiar tumble of sound and words, and Bucky lets himself fall into it gladly. His friends follow him down the narrow hall, shouting about one thing or the next, until they spill into the kitchen. There’s an awkward pause for a moment. 

“Guys, this is Steve. Steve, this is Bernie and Paul. You’ve already met Imani.” 

Steve steps forward, holding out his hand for first Bernie and then Paul to shake. He’s got that stiff, polite smile on his face, and Bucky hates it a little. He leans into Steve, nudging him with his elbow and sending a wave of comfort and happiness towards him. The line of Steve’s shoulders eases a little, but not as much as Bucky would like. 

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Steve says, still wearing his polite, public face. Bucky suppresses a sigh, but Steve must feel it, because there’s a purposeful apology tugging at the bond a moment later. “I’ve heard so much about all of you.”

“Bucky’s been too busy  _ with  _ you to tell us anything  _ about _ you,” Paul says, heading straight for the table now that introductions have been made. “Dude, you made french toast. You’re my favorite!”

“Hey!” Imani interjects playfully. “I thought I was your favorite.”

“Yeah, when you make pie. You didn’t make me any pie. Therefore, Bucky is my favorite.” Paul grins back at them as he speaks. 

“Yeah, well, you’re not his favorite!” Imani says as she starts pulling plates from the cupboards while Bernie gathers silverware.

“Aw, that’s not true! Bucky, tell Imani I’m your favorite,” Paul begs playfully. 

“You’re not my favorite,” Bucky says, grabbing Steve’s hand and tugging him further into the room. Steve’s still stiff and uncomfortable, but Bucky knows it’s going to take him a little while to settle in. 

“Well, fuck you, too,” Paul shoots back, picking up the plate of french toast and bringing it over to the table. Bernie’s pouring mimosas and Imani’s pulling the fruit salad out of the fridge. Their brunch is a well oiled machine. 

Bucky pulls Steve towards the end of the table, picking a spot where Steve doesn’t have to sit next to anyone but Bucky. The warmth of a mug of tea cupped between his palms conveys Steve’s gratitude and Bucky leans into him. This is honestly the stuff of dreams for him, sitting around a table with his friends and his soulmate, warm and whole and with his favorite people in the world. 

“So what you have you two been up to?” Paul asks, dropping his voice suggestively. A pink flush races across Bucky’s face and he ducks his chin down and reaches for the french toast. Imani helpfully slaps the back of Paul’s head. 

“That’s none of your business, bozo.” 

Paul sticks his tongue out. “Can’t blame me for being curious. I’ve been waiting for Bucky to get laid for literal  _ years. _ ” 

Bucky’s cheeks burn. Paul is possibly the most sexual person Bucky knows and he’s always been a little bemused by Bucky’s insistence on waiting. Steve’s side of the bond kind of jerks, realization and surprise and worry all mixed in together, a reaction Bucky can’t quite make sense of. 

“We’ve just been hanging around here,” Bucky says, ignoring Paul’s implied question and purposefully changing the subject. “Can’t really go anywhere ‘cause of the press.”

“That sucks,” Bernie commiserates and starts serving up french toast. They serve them each two pieces, even Steve, and Bucky’s glad they did a first breakfast. Even so, once attention’s moved on to the fruit, Bucky spears a couple extra slices on to Steve’s plate. 

Once everyone is served up, attention turns back to Steve again. Bucky knows that it would be this way no matter who his soulmate was, but he can tell that Steve’s just reading it as interest in his public persona, rather than  _ him _ . Luckily, Imani is a gift. 

“Steve! Is it awful to have to share a bed with Bucky? The one time we shared, he stole all the covers and kicked like a mule.” 

Steve’s lips twitch a little and he glances at Bucky. “It’s not so bad.” 

“Hey!” Bucky interjected. “I’ll have you know, I’m the long suffering one here! Steve is a morning person! And I am talking awake before the sun is even up early,” Bucky groans, collapsing dramatically back into his chair. 

“Dude, you wouldn’t even know what a sunrise looks like! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you up before ten a.m.” Paul says through a mouthful of french toast. Gross. 

That descends quickly into a fight about whose habits are worst to live with, and slowly Steve begins to relax. 

“So you all go to Columbia, right?” Steve asks during a lull in the conversation, voice a little cautious and still a bit stiffly polite, but Bucky will take what he can get. 

“Uh huh!” Paul agrees. 

“We did,” Bernie elaborates. “We all graduated with Bucky.”

“And did you all study engineering?” Steve asks. His left hand comes to rest nervously on Bucky’s thigh, fingers tapping a distracting pattern on the inside of his leg. 

“Oh, no,” Imani says, setting down her silverware and reaching for her mimosa. “I’m premed. I’m going to med school in the fall, at Columbia again.” 

“I did study engineering with Bucky,” Paul explained with a grin. “S’how we met, as lowly freshman in our Physics 101 class.” 

“Biggest regret of my life,” Bucky sighs. “Should have been a pianist, just so I didn’t meet this idiot.” 

“Fuck off. You love me.” 

“Meh,” Bucky shrugs, smiling playfully. Steve’s easing with each little barb traded, the movements of his fingers slowing on Bucky’s leg. 

“What about you, Bernie?” Steve’s voice is a little shy when he addresses Bernie, but not in the usual way. Bucky studies the bond a moment, trying to figure it out, but he’s not quite sure what to make of it. 

“I studied journalism,” Bernie’s a lot calmer than the rest of them, most of the time, though they can be deceptively mischievous and sharp. “And Public Relations. By all rights, I really shouldn’t have fallen in with all these STEM majors, but Bucky and I took a class together our freshman year.”

Steve’s fidgeting uncomfortably and Bucky abruptly realizes it’s because of the journalism thing, which, yeah, he should have warned Steve about that. It’s not like they’re having the best go of it with the press right now. 

“Bernie offered to help us with any PR stuff if we need it,” Bucky said, leaning his shoulder against Steve’s. “I know you weren’t sure about Pepper’s people, it might be nice to have someone who’s a friend.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Steve agrees, giving Bernie a more genuine and relaxed smile. Bernie’s not easily charmed, but Bucky can see Steve’s smile working its magic. It’s pretty irresistible, Bucky knows. “That was really kind of you to offer. Thank you.”

Bernie waves it away. “Bucky’s one of my best friends. I’d do anything to make things easier for him.” Which honestly makes Bucky want to give them a big giant hug. He settles for grinning widely at everyone, just really, really happy. 

*

The rest of the morning passes quickly. Bucky’s friends are kind and inclusive and ask Steve questions mostly about now. Sometimes they ask about where Steve went to school or what it was like when he was a kid, but they don’t ask about the war and they don’t ask about waking up in the 21st Century, and they don’t ask about fighting aliens from outer space, though Bucky knows Paul would really like to. 

It’s good to have them around. As much as Bucky loves being with Steve, it can be a lot, just to be with one person most of the time. Bucky’s family is around a lot too, especially Bucky’s dad who often works from home, but that’s not at all the same as having his friends around. 

Plus, he doesn’t know how long they’ll all be around. Paul’s headed to MIT in the fall, and Bernie’s got a pretty prestigious internship lined up with a PR firm in D.C. Imani’s staying in New York. And Bucky doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing next, which is honestly a little terrifying. But it was more terrifying before he had Steve, ‘cause at least now he knows that Steve’s going to be around whatever the next step is. 

“We’re all gonna head over to Central Park this afternoon, meet up with Paloma, and Alice, and all them, wanna come?” Imani invites as Bucky’s friends gather their things and put their shoes back on. 

Bucky glances back at Steve, but he’s already saying, “Maybe some other time.” 

“Boo, you whore,” Bernie says in their droll voice. Bucky laughs. 

A feeling like a cat being petted the wrong direction ruffles across the bond and it takes Bucky a minute to figure out what’s bothered him. When he does, he has to hide a laugh. He pushes up on his tip toes so he can whisper in Steve’s ear, knowing that Steve sometimes feels self-conscious about not getting pop culture references. 

“It’s from a movie,” he murmurs, and Steve nods as his arm comes around to steady Bucky. A quiet thanks floats across the bond. 

“Hopefully the press gets bored soon,” Imani says. “We miss you. We should all go out dancing sometime.” 

“Yeah!” Bucky agrees, excited by the prospect. It would be really good to get out with his friends “We should go see a drag show! Steve’s been telling me about drag shows back in his day.” He grins up at Steve. Steve had sort of panicked at the mention of dancing, but he relaxes when Bucky smiles at him, and nods. 

“That would be awesome!” Bernie agrees. “I’d love to hear about the scene when you were growing up.”

“Sure,” Steve says, a mix between Bucky’s shy, sweet Steve and the polite, polished Steve the rest of the world gets. “That would be nice.” 

“It’s a plan!” Imani chirps. She leans in to give him a hug goodbye, with Bernie and Paul following her lead. Steve offers his hand again, which Paul and Bernie shake, saying how nice it was to meet him. Imani, however, darts in and gives Steve a quick hug. “It was really great to meet you, Steve. We’re all so happy you’re Bucky’s soulmate and that you’ve finally found each other.”

Steve softens a little, like a marshmallow getting goopy over a campfire. “Yeah, me too.” 

There’s a final round of goodbyes before Bucky’s friends leave in the same whirlwind they arrived in, the door closing behind them and leaving Steve and Bucky in the warm silence of just the two of them. 

“They’re really great,” Steve says, turning to look at Bucky. Bucky grins. 

“Yeah, they’re kinda the best.”

“Um, I wasn’t sure...I -” Steve stops and chews on his lip, looking a little nervous and frustrated. “Bernie...is, um, is Bernie a boy or a girl?” 

Bucky kinda laughs, relieved. “Neither. They use gender neutral pronouns, they/them. Which is how you would ask, by the way,” Bucky takes Steve’s hand and pulls him up the stairs. “By asking their pronouns. That’s the polite way to handle it, if you’re not sure. I mean. You should ask everyone their pronouns, really, cause you can’t assume you know somebody’s gender just ‘cause of the way they look, y’know?”

“Oh,” Steve mumbles, sounding a little confused. There’s an itching in the bond that Bucky has come to learn that Steve wants to look something up - he’s even getting used to looking things up online, Bucky knows, instead of thinking he has to go to the library. 

“Bernie’s pretty chill. They wouldn’t mind answering your questions. I can give you their email. If you want.”

“I, yeah. Yeah, that would be good.” 

They stop on the stairs to smile at each other. Bucky’s kinda overcome with how perfect this morning was and how happy he is. He crowds into Steve’s space, reaching up for a kiss, which Steve happily delivers. Bucky wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, falling into the addictive rush of kissing Steve. 

Steve’s hands run down Bucky’s back in long, sure strokes. Bucky pushes forward, pressing their chests together. He opens his mouth and tongues at Steve’s mouth. He’s pretty sure he’s gotten fairly good at french kissing, even though it’s still really weird that it’s a thing humans do. Steve’s groan seems to confirm Bucky’s confidence, and he preens internally for a moment. 

Steve pulls back after a moment, leaving just enough room between their mouths to murmur, “Let’s go upstairs.” 

Bucky nods, but doesn’t make any attempt to pull away from Steve, rather leaning back in for more kissing. Mmm, kissing. Really, how did he go so long without kissing? And without kissing Steve, in particular, because despite his lack of experience probably affecting his judgement, Bucky is pretty sure that Steve is a really good kisser. 

Steve makes a falsely irritated sound and then - 

_ And then  _ \- 

His hands come to cup Bucky’s ass, slide down his thighs, press, and suddenly Steve has hoisted Bucky up to carry him and that should not be as hot as it is, but it is so freaking hot. Bucky moans and returns to kissing Steve with new fervor. They stumble up the stairs. A lot of Bucky’s brain is caught up with worrying that Steve is going to drop him or that he’s too heavy or something - even though Steve’s a supersoldier who can like, lift tanks and shit, and can obviously hold Bucky just fine - but the rest of his brain is just happy and turned on. 

It’s a good place to be. 

They sort of tumble into bed, Steve bracing himself so he doesn’t land on Bucky. Bucky’s hands quickly find the hem of Steve’s t-shirt and start tugging it up. Steve pulls back to get it off, momentarily getting tangled in it, and Bucky giggles, which is a very embarrassing noise. 

The things Steve does to him, though. Really. 

Bucky’s hands fly to Steve’s chest as soon as it’s revealed. He’s still working out exactly what he’s supposed to do with his hands when they make out like this, but he’s also starting to realize there might not be anything in particular he’s supposed to do. Most ways Steve touches him feel good, after all, even when Steve isn’t even trying to turn him on. 

Steve starts pushing Bucky’s shirt up, running his hands over the revealed skin and pressing kisses to Bucky’s stomach and chest as he goes. Bucky sighs happily and helps Steve get his shirt the rest of the way off. The press of naked skin has quickly become one of Bucky’s favorite things, even if they haven’t progressed to taking any more than their shirts off. 

Well. Sometimes they make out in just their boxers, but that’s usually in the morning, before they’ve gotten up to get dressed, and Steve’s always a real gentleman about it, never pushing Bucky too far. 

Bucky can feel the heat of Steve’s dick where it’s pressing up against his thigh, and he’s kinda wondering what it would be like to touch it. Maybe not skin to skin, maybe just with his hand over Steve’s jeans. That would be alright, he thinks. 

Steve’s tongue is in his mouth, so Bucky tries to mostly focus on that while slowly, ever so slowly, he sends his right hand down, coasting over the more and more familiar planes of Steve’s chest, and then ducking into foreign territory. Steve sucks in a breath as Bucky’s presses into the bulge of Steve’s dick. Bucky’s not real sure what to do now that he’s there, so he traces the line of Steve’s dick with one finger. 

He already knows Steve’s bigger than him - it’s not like their pants really hide all that much after they’ve been going at it for a while. But it’s different, feeling the hot length against his thigh and touching it with his own hand, even through pants. It’s  _ weird _ , just like most sexy things are, as Bucky is discovering. Steve holds himself very, very still, as though he’s afraid if he moves he’ll scare Bucky off. 

He might, Bucky admits to himself, with a little bit of shame. Bucky knows he’s been skittish about sex, for reasons he can’t really make sense of, even for himself. But he also know he doesn’t want to do anything before he’s ready to do it. Steve’s a good guy, he gets it. 

Bucky glances down Steve’s body, watching his hand on Steve’s jean-clad dick. He bites his lip and takes it in a firmer grip, though that’s made difficult by the thick fabric. The angle is awkward, too, and his wrist complains after just a couple moments. He changes his grip, looking for something that feels easier to maintain, and Steve hisses out a breath. 

“Can I touch you?” Steve’s words fall into the heated space between them. Bucky can feel Steve’s desire - and it’s not just the desire to get off, there’s a deep want to make Bucky feel good that fills Bucky’s whole body with a rush of heat. Slowly, he nods. Steve lifts a hand, easily balancing the rest of his body over Bucky’s with just one arm. He doesn’t immediately go for Bucky’s dick, instead revisiting the hot spots that they’ve discovered together over the last week - tweaking Bucky’s nipple, rubbing a thumb over the jut of Bucky’s hips, tracing his belly button - before finally palming Bucky’s dick. 

Bucky gasps. Somehow, it’s so much more than when he touches himself, never mind that there’s not even skin contact. Bucky doesn’t know if that’s the bond, or if it’s always like that when someone else touches you. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t know how Steve is going to move, so that each touch is a surprise. But maybe it’s that he can feel how hot it gets Steve to touch him this way. 

Bucky’s going to come way too quick if they keep this up, he can tell. Like, embarrassingly quickly. Like maybe three more seconds of this and he is going to come in his pants. He grabs Steve’s hand to stop the movement. “I, um -” he stutters, face glowing red. But Steve just smiles, rolling to the side and cuddling up to Bucky. He’s not even a little bit bitter about having to stop, despite the palpable sexual frustration in both of them. 

“It’s just,” Bucky starts, trying to find words to explain some of why he wants to take things slowly. “It’s both our first times, y’know. I just want it to be right.”

Steve freezes beside him, bond going alarmingly still. Steve sits up, eyebrows drawn in over his eyes. A pit of dread forms in Bucky’s belly, quickly make his erection disappear. He sits up too. 

“Bucky,” Steve says slowly, “It’s not going to be my first time.”

There’s a roaring sound in Bucky’s head. He doesn’t understand. He knows that Steve’s kissed other people, probably fooled around with them too, but - 

It was even more a thing to wait in Steve’s time, wasn’t it? Bucky knows some people don’t, now. None of his friends have waited. Bucky doesn’t judge them for it, he really doesn’t. It’s just - he always thought he and his soulmate would be each other’s first. They’d figure it out together, be the only ones who got to see each other  _ that  _ way. 

Bucky had waited. He’d waited and waited and waited. 

“I didn’t know I had a soulmate,” Steve says softly. He reaches out to touch Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky pulls away, staring at his sheets. They’re the stupid Harry Potter ones his ma got him when he was twelve, after he’d been in the hospital two weeks, his temperature dropping to extreme lows, no matter what the doctors had done. They finally had to induce a fever, just to get Bucky to a safe temperature. 

He’d missed the school play he’d been practicing for three months for. 

“I didn’t know until I woke up here,” Steve said, his voice tight. The bond is twisted and painful between them, a confused tangle of thread that Bucky can’t begin to make sense of. It doesn’t feel like the strong rope of the last several days. Bucky pulls his knees into his chest and wraps his arms around himself, not looking at Steve at all. “I didn’t think I’d ever have - . People don’t wait when they don’t have a soulmate. There’s no reason to. It’s just...how things are. If I’d known I would have waited for you Bucky. I swear.”

Bucky knows all this. Of course he does. He knows that Steve didn’t know he had a soulmate. And he knows that people who don’t have soulmates don’t wait. They get to fifteen and they know and most of them find someone else who doesn’t have a mark, once they’re ready. It’s not a bad thing. People who don’t have marks are encouraged to connect to each other and it’s really normal for them to have lots of partners. If someone doesn’t have a mark, there’s no expectation of monogamy. 

Bucky knows all this. Hell, he took a  _ History of Bonds and Sexuality  _ course with Bernie one semester. And he’d thought he was okay with it all. He might be kinda traditional, but he doesn’t judge people who aren’t. 

But those people aren’t his soulmate. 

They aren’t the person he’s going to share his body and his life with. They aren’t the person he’s been waiting for since he was born. Bucky’s bottom lip trembles. 

He’s hurt. He’s really, really hurt. And he knows it doesn’t make any sense and that it’s not fair to Steve, but he can’t help the way he feels. 

“I’m so sorry, Bucky.” Steve whispers. 

“I know,” Bucky responds, hating the way his voice shakes. He wishes he could just forgive Steve. He wishes that this didn’t matter to him so much. Hastily, Bucky wipes at his cheeks when he feels tears start to course down his face. “I’m - I’m just, I’m going to take a walk I think.”

“I can come with you,” Steve offers. And he’s so apologetic, and his side of the bond screams out for Bucky to let him know they’re okay, that things are going to work out somehow. 

They will, Bucky knows. They’re soulmates. Steve’s it for him, and this doesn’t change that. But he’s still hurt and he really just needs some time to process this. 

“I just need space. Just for a little bit.” Bucky stands up. He looks at Steve sitting there on his Harry Potter sheets, shirtless and disheveled. “We’ll be okay. I just need - I need to be by myself for a little while.”

Steve nods, hands fisting in the covers. Bucky turns away from him, feeling like he’s choking on the confused lump of feeling. He picks a t-shirt up off the ground and doesn’t realize until after he’s pulled it on and is halfway out the door that it’s Steve’s. It feels weird to be wearing Steve’s clothes. They don’t usually do that, even when everything is good. 

And everything is not good. 

Bucky takes the stairs two at a time and shoves his feet into shoes, grabbing his keys from the bowl by the door. 

Picking a direction at random, Bucky starts to walk. He’s dazed and not paying much attention, wandering through streets that are only half familiar. 

Pictures come into his mind without his permission - Steve with other people. Bucky wonders if they were men or women. Maybe it would be better if it were women, at least then he’d be some kind of first for Steve. 

But deep down, Bucky knows that’s not the case. Steve’s familiar with fooling around with men, Bucky’s always been aware of that, even if he didn’t really think about it much. Steve’s confident about where and how to touch Bucky to make him feel good, even when Bucky’s been pretty firm about not going below the belt. 

And Steve’s talked about the queer scene in his day, about the people he knew and the drag shows he went to, and the queer men and women who lived around him and with him. 

Bucky feels pretty stupid. Steve hadn’t been trying to hide the fact that he’d been with other people, now that Bucky is looking back on it. Bucky was just purposefully obtuse. Bucky didn’t want to see, so he didn’t. Bucky tucks his hands in his pockets and tries not to cry. He feels so stupid. Not only because he didn’t see, but because it’s such a silly thing to be upset about. 

It’s ridiculous, really. It doesn’t matter. So what if Steve’s been with other people. It shouldn’t matter if he’s been with one or one hundred. Bucky doesn’t judge Paul for being polyamorous, even though he’s got a soulmate he hasn’t met. Bucky’s never thought a bad thought about Bernie, who’s had a couple friends with benefits while they’re waiting to meet their soulmate. If it were anyone else in the world, Bucky wouldn’t care. 

But it’s not. It’s Steve. And Bucky does care, he really, really does. 

“Excuse me, sir?” A polite, nasally voice interrupts Bucky’s internal monologue and he looks up. He’s wandered into some of the backstreets of Crown Heights, narrow roads and boarded up businesses, hit hard by the recession. 

There’s a thin looking man standing in front of him, with an oddly turned up nose and a bald spot poorly concealed by a comb over. 

“Yes?” Bucky’s voice cracks and he clears his throat and starts again. “Can I help you?” 

There’s a sharp pain in his side and his whole body goes rigid. Bucky starts to fall, unable to get his hands out to catch himself. He hits the pavement hard and everything goes a little fuzzy. 

 


	8. get the fiance out of the way and the whole thing will be fixed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilery warning for this chapter in the end notes.

It’s hard to follow exactly what’s going on. Bucky tries to scream but can’t quite get his body on board. Another man appears, this one twice the size of the other and so thick with muscle that he looks like a caricature of a gym bro. 

He’s holding a taser, which explains how Bucky ended up on the ground. 

The two men are talking, but Bucky can’t really make out what they’re saying. The big one leans down and hefts Bucky up, over his shoulder like Bucky’s a sack of potatoes. Bucky tries to kick out, but the gym bro has at least five inches and a hundred pounds on him, and Bucky’s limbs are still not completely on board. 

He’s tossed into the back of a seedy van that Bucky’s can’t help thinking is a huge cliche. There’s a part of Bucky that is trying very hard to panic, but the rest of his brain is just filled up with totally useless shit. 

But then the bond roars to life. 

He can feel Steve reacting to his pain and the growing panic, can practically see Steve jumping up from his bed and running down the stairs, trying to get to him. 

It’s too late. The van rumbles as the engine turns on and Bucky’s vision fades to black. 

*

When Bucky wakes up, his arm throbs and his mouth is dry. Over both of those feelings is the sharp stabbing of the bond demanding he get back to Steve right this instant. Bucky’s never felt it this bad. It makes him feel dizzy and nauseous, makes the whole world seem like it has been scrambled. The roaring bond sickness is much more pressing than the pain in his arm, and it helps him to get up and focus, because he needs to get back to Steve. 

Steve’s side of the bond is a flood of panic and anger and this insidious guilt that floats over everything and is crawling into the tiniest cracks of Steve’s psyche. Bucky needs to be there so he can call Steve a doofus and remind him that not everything is his fault or his responsibility. 

Bucky needs the fuck out of this place. 

He sits up slowly, sending a gentle nudge to Steve to let him know that he’s awake and alright, for the moment. There’s an answering wave of relief and concern, and then this underlying steel and resolve. Steve’s going to find him. Okay, then. He just has to stay safe until Steve can get to him and stay calm so he doesn’t distract Steve. 

That is...easier said than done. 

The screaming pain of the bond makes everything feel frenzied and overwhelming, makes him want to pound his fists against the walls or throw his body into the door. It demands that he get out and get to Steve no matter the cost. Bucky’s brain knows better, but the bond is all encompassing. 

Bucky takes a deep breath and evaluates his surroundings. The room he’s being held in is not precisely what he might have expected. It looks like that room in the basement of his synagogue where they stored old siddurs and maneschevitz, all cracked linoleum and weird yellow paint, an ancient air conditioner wheezing and moaning against one wall. Bucky’s even sitting on a couch that smells like somebody’s grandmother.

Cautiously, Bucky stands, bracing his arm against his body. He’s aware that it hurts more than he’s really processing, because the pain of the bond is so much  _ more _ , but he knows enough to be careful with it. His vision grays a little as he stands and he has to swallow back a sudden wave of nausea. He braces himself against the wall and takes a few stumbling steps toward the door. Not expecting much, Bucky tries the handle and isn’t surprised to find it locked. Sighing, Bucky leans into the wall, head spinning. 

He misses Steve. 

Fuck, he misses Steve so much. 

The door opens. It’s the small man with the nasally voice, the large man lurking behind him like a disproportionate shadow. If Bucky weren’t so dizzy, he’d try to make a break for it. Usually, he’s pretty quick, and though the big dude is intimidatingly muscly, he doesn’t look very fast. But if Bucky tried to run now, he’d most likely end up face planting on the floor, which wouldn’t do anyone any good. Instead, Bucky just tries to look less like he’s about to fall over. 

“Ah, James Barnes. You’re awake!” the nasally man says. “We are here to save you from damnation!”

…

_ What?  _

“What?” Bucky demands, because seriously  _ what the hell _ . These people kidnapped him and are keeping him captive. How the hell can they think that they’re saving Bucky in any way? 

“For surely the tether of your bond would keep you from Heaven!” the nasally dude cries, and oh no. He’s one of  _ those _ . Those people who think that bonds are the work of the devil or some shit. Bucky’s never paid much attention to those wackos who stand on street corners and yell about how bonds are the end of all good things, or whatever. 

Honestly, what complete and utter buillshit. 

“But have no fear,” the man reaches out as though to pat Bucky on the shoulder and Bucky rears back, which is a bit too much for his bond pain addled brain and he falls backwards. Luckily, the couch catches him. The fall jars his arm, though, and a sharp pain throbs outward, tugging at the bond. Bucky can  _ feel  _ it distracting Steve and he takes a deep breath and valiantly tries to ignore it. 

He just needs to stay calm. For Steve. 

“For we shall rid you of the evil of your bond and leave you to live your life free of it’s tenacious taint.”

Okay, that calm thing? Not happening. 

“What do you mean?” Bucky hates the way his voice shakes. 

“It’s a simple procedure.” The man draws himself up, trying to look down his nose at Bucky, but he just ends up going a little cross eyed. Bucky wishes it made him feel even a little better, but his brain is stuck on the thought of them getting rid of his bond. “It’s just a little cut and both of you will be free of the touch of the devil. For more than any other, Captain America must be without the touch of evil on his soul. A simple surgery and you shall be cured of this perversion.” 

That can’t be possible, can it? Surely he would know if someone, somewhere had tried to do something like that. It makes him feel sick to his stomach. He wouldn’t be  _ him  _ without his bond to Steve. Steve was the other half of his soul, the other half of everything. They couldn’t expect to take that away and have Bucky survive, could they?

Soulmates rarely survived their other half dying after the bond has been forged. And the force of the bond is so strong, so all encompassing. If they cut it - if that’s possible - Bucky can’t imagine anyone surviving something like that. For those who have it, the bond is the foundation of self, the foundation of life.  There’s no way this is a thing. It can’t be real. 

They’re crazy, these people are crazy. They’re just not plugged into reality, is all. This is just the insane ramblings of deeply disturbed people. 

“It’s been successfully carried out on more than fifty individuals, so you may rest assured that you shall live  a long and happy life after the procedure. It will only be a few hours until you are finally free of this curse.”

Bucky’s going to be sick. He can’t - this can’t be - 

He throws up, just managing to get it on the floor rather than all over himself. 

“Please,” he says. He’s scared. He wants Steve. He wants his ma and his dad, he wants to go home. These people are terrifying and insane and they’re going to try and separate him from Steve. “Please, don’t.”

The slimy, small man tries to look reassuring. He puts one of his disgusting hands on Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky flinches away. The touch seems to crawl into his skin. 

“Afterwards you shall be glad,” he says. “Afterwards you will be free.”

Bucky doesn’t want to be free of Steve. That’s the last thing he wants. 

The men turn and leave, closing and locking the door behind them. Bucky curls up into a ball against the arm of the couch and tries not to cry. Was it really just this afternoon that he curled up just like this, angry and upset at the news that Steve wasn’t a virgin? It seems so stupid now, such a stupid, silly thing to worry about. 

Bucky just wants to be close to Steve. He clutches at the bond with all his might, feeling Steve’s panic and anger and worry and trying to crawl across the rope of their bond. It’s stretched so far and so thin. It would be easy to cut right now, Bucky thinks, hysteria building. It wouldn’t take any effort at all. 

“Please come,” Bucky whispers to himself. “Hurry, Steve. Please, hurry.”

*

Time drags on and with each passing second the pain of the bond grows exponentially, until Bucky can’t help but cry from the pain of it. Bucky’s not real clear on how much time is passing, just that every minute is a minute too long without seeing Steve again. At some point, the big lunkhead comes back to leave Bucky some food, which he can’t bring himself to eat, and point out a plastic bucket in the corner of the room, which Bucky does use, though reluctantly. 

It’s impossible to gather anything but hurt from the bond, leaving him no clue of what Steve is doing or feeling or how close he is to finding Bucky. He’s dizzy and weak with the separation and fear sits heavy in his body, because he knows he won’t be able to fight when they come from him, when they try to cut the bond. 

They’re going to take Steve from him and Bucky’s going to die from it. He can’t imagine surviving it. With the bond gone, what will remain of Bucky? People live without bonds. Bucky knows that. People live without bonds every day. Some people never have bonds in the first place, some people have them broken by death before they ever get to meet their soulmate. 

But Bucky has never lived without a bond. He was born knowing the comfort and strength of having a bond mate and there has not been a single moment in his life in which he could forget. There had been years of cold and loneliness, but the bond had sustained him, and finally he’d met Steve, the other half of his soul. 

Bucky can’t live not tied to this man. 

He loves him so much. 

And they were fighting and he was angry and maybe that’s the last thing he’ll ever get to do while tied to Steve. Maybe the last thing Steve ever feels from him will be his anger and disappointment, then his fear and panic. It’s so stupid. It doesn’t matter, not even a little bit. So Steve was different than he expected, has different experiences than Bucky imagined. 

Steve is his now and it doesn’t matter who touched him in the past, or who he might have slept with. It doesn’t matter if it was one, or twenty, or a hundred other people. Bucky and Steve are irrevocably intertwined for the rest of their lives, and there’s not a soul alive who could compete with the strength of their bond. 

Bucky hugs his knees a little tighter into his chest. 

_ Steve _ , he calls out internally,  _ Steve, I love you. _

But the bond is just a scream of pain, no room for anything else at all. 

*

The door bangs open. Bucky doesn’t look up, expecting the slimy man and his muscle bound, lunkhead associate. But the bond stops screaming and then there’s a warm, familiar hand on his shoulder. 

Bucky looks up. 

“Steve!” He launches himself forward, ignoring the pain of his arm. Steve’s arms come around him. 

“Bucky, oh my God, Bucky. I was so worried. I thought - I,  _ Bucky _ .” 

Relief and affection and joy and concern floods the bond in both directions. 

“They were going to cut the bond,” Bucky sobs, clutching at Steve with his good arm. “They were going to - Steve. They said -”

“They didn’t,” Steve reassures. “They didn’t, I’m here, we’re okay.” Steve clutches him closer, jarring Bucky’s arm and Bucky cries out in surprise. Steve lets go, which is the last thing in the world Bucky wants. He lurches forward, seeking contact. “What’s wrong?” Steve asks, hands fluttering over Bucky’s shoulders, but still not touching. “Did I hurt you?”

“Hurt my arm,” Bucky mumbles, pressing closer. “Earlier. I just moved it weird.”

“Let me see,” Steve demands. Bucky hisses as he holds out his arm. Steve’s gentle, cupping Bucky’s elbow with one arm and running finger tips over the rest of it. “Can you move your fingers?” 

Bucky wiggles them obligingly, but keeps his eyes fixed on Steve’s face. He’s so glad to see him. His whole body sings with it. The bond is tightening between them, reacting to the forced distance with desperate connection. It’s going to be like back at the beginning of the bond, Bucky senses, hardly able to spend fifteen minutes apart. 

He’s totally okay with that. 

“I think it’s broken,” Steve says, and a protective anger, like the round arc of Steve’s shield, scoops into Bucky’s body. Steve’s wearing his uniform, the shield that their bond is mirroring carried on his back. He looks really, really good. Bucky puts his good hand on Steve’s face, feeling oddly confident. Pushing up on his toes, Bucky plants a kiss on Steve’s mouth. Steve immediately folds into it, bracing Bucky’s body with his and kissing him passionately. 

It feels so good and the bond is so happy between them. Bucky presses closer, wishing they were home so he could strip Steve of his uniform, have nothing but skin against his skin. He just wants to be close to Steve. All of his old worries and insecurities seem so small and stupid, now. All he wants is to be as close to Steve as possible. 

Steve pulls back, but keeps their foreheads pressed together. “I was so worried. I thought I wouldn’t get to you in time.”

“You did,” Bucky murmurs. “You found me.”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “Just like you found me.”

Bucky loves this man so much. Just,  _ so much _ . And he really, really, really wants to have sex with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is kidnapped by Bad Men with religion-driven ill intentions. And then he gets rescued.


	9. you can fix this fixer upper with a little bit of love

Of course, they don’t get to go straight home, let alone get any kind of intimacy. Instead, they have to go to the hospital. Bucky doesn’t really want to, but the longer he and Steve are together the more his arm hurts. The pain from bond separation is fading quickly, but without anything to distract him from it, the pain in his arm is growing unbearable. 

The rest of Steve’s team is there too, which is kind of awesome. It’s not everyone who rates a rescue by the Avengers, after all. Plus, they manage to avoid Tony in all of it, which is excellent. Bucky does get to meet Black Widow, which will make all of his friends incredibly jealous. 

There’s an ambulance outside already, and Steve hustles him straight there, a careful arm around Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky leans into him, the bond humming happily between them. Steve helps him up into the back, which is way better than being helped by strange paramedics. 

Steve tries to leave him to sit on the narrow gurney, but Bucky makes a hurt noise and reaches out for him. It is entirely too soon to stop touching. Steve glances at the paramedic, who nods quickly. 

“Your touch will help him settle,” she says. Which, yes, thank you paramedic. Bucky definitely needs Steve’s touch. So Steve sits down beside Bucky, looking funny all scrunched up and trying to sit on the gurney. Bucky laughs a little breathlessly at him, his arm throbbing and making it hard to breathe quite right. “I’m just going to take your vitals,” the paramedic explains. “We’re going to take you straight to New York Presbyterian, to see your GP.” 

“Okay,” Bucky says, leaning into Steve. He doesn’t think he really needs to see Dr. Rothberg, but given the forced separation, maybe he does. The bond seems to be doing just fine fixing itself, but it’s not like Bucky’s an expert. 

The paramedic, who introduces herself as Allison, is gentle as she takes his pulse and blood pressure, checks his pupil reactions, and listens to him breathe. She says she agrees that Bucky probably has a broken arm, but that he’ll need an x-ray to confirm. Bucky sort of stops listening after that, though. He’s tired and in pain and all he really wants to do is go home to his own bed and do some naked cuddling with Steve, which he definitely can’t do here. 

“Did someone call my ma?” Bucky asks after Allison’s finished her exam. 

“Yeah,” Steve reassures. Bucky’s leaning up against him now and Steve keeps stroking his hands through Bucky’s hair, which is really nice. “She’s going to meet us at the hospital, alright?”

“Uh huh,” Bucky mumbles, letting his eyes close. He’s too uncomfortable to sleep, but it’s nice to close his eyes and just feel Steve there with him. He’d been so scared and he really doesn’t want to leave Steve’s presence ever again. 

“Can’t you give him any pain meds?” Steve demands, probably able to sense how much Bucky’s arm hurts. 

Allison shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t. Once you get to ER and the doctor confirms, they’ll be able to give you something for the pain.”

Bucky winces, knowing how long that could take. His arm really hurts. 

“But he’s in pain!” Steve’s got his serious Captain America voice on, but there’s a frantic edge which is all Bucky’s soft, worried, adorable Steve. It makes him smile into Steve’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry.” Allison really does sound like she’s sorry, but Steve’s all protective anger and worry-fear he doesn’t want to admit to, which kind of makes Bucky want to squish him. Steve’s thumb rubs the tip of Bucky’s ear and Bucky sighs happily. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to splint your arm now, Bucky.”

Bucky winces. That does not sound like something he wants to happen. But he sits up anyway, knowing better than to argue with medical professionals. He’s been keeping his arm tucked into his body, though it keeps getting painfully jarred whenever the ambulance goes over a pot hole or drain cover. Allison gently coaxes him to straighten up, which he does with Steve’s help. Steve keeps one strong arm cradled around Bucky’s body, bracing him carefully against the motions of the ambulance. 

“Alright, just hold your arm against your chest - yeah, perfect. Can you hold it there with your other hand?” Allison speaks quietly as she works, sliding a weird plastic splint up against his arm. It hurts, Bucky’s not going to lie. He hides his face in Steve again and bites his lip, trying not to be a total wimp about it. 

But it has just been a really long and really awful day and Bucky has done his best to be strong and calm for all of it, even when he was terrified out of his mind and the bond was screaming bloody murder at him. 

“Ow,” he whimpers, like a total baby, as Allison wraps gauze around his arm. She’s gentle and quick, but Bucky hit his limit for pain several hours ago. Steve’s arm tightens around him and he presses a kiss into the side of Bucky’s head. 

“Sorry, Bucky. We’re almost done here, okay?” Allison tells him, clearly regretful. 

“You’re doing so good,” Steve mumbles, which is ridiculous. There’s not really being good at having your arm splinted, and if there is, Bucky is definitely not doing it. “You’ve been so brave today.”

And well. That’s just nice to hear, even though it’s clearly an overstatement. Steve’s the bravest person Bucky’s ever known. Not cause he’s Captain America or a hero or any of that, but because he woke up here without anything and is making a go of it, even though so much has changed. 

Bucky rubs his cheek against Steve’s chest, missing the soft cotton of the shirts he sleeps in and the weirdly starchy button downs Steve wears when Bucky doesn’t bother him into wearing more modern clothes. The uniform is hot, but it is not the most comfortable thing for cuddling. Plus, it smells weird, all mechanical and bleachy and not at all like Steve. It’s not the one he wore when the Chitauri invaded, which is a damn shame, cause you really couldn’t go wrong with skin tight spandex, but this one is something that fits a little more like army fatigues.

Bucky plucks at the straps on it with his good hand until Steve catches his hand and gives it a little squeeze, smiling at him. Bucky’s still wearing Steve’s shirt from this morning, and it’s a tad too big and soft, and it feels good on Bucky’s skin. 

“Your ma is bringing me something to change into,” Steve says. Bucky nods. He really wants to see his ma. And his dad. And even his sisters. He’s really glad Steve is here with him, but Bucky has never done hospitals without his family and he doesn’t want to change that. 

“What about Dad?” 

“He’s staying home with your sisters. We didn’t want to overwhelm you.” Bucky frowns a little at that news, but it does make sense. He doesn’t know what the girls know, either, and he doesn’t want to scare them. 

“I’m not going to have to stay the night, right?”Bucky asks and Steve looks up at Allison for the answer. 

She answers quickly, “You shouldn’t have to, but we’ll see what the doctor has to say.”

“Dr. Rothberg won’t make me stay,” Bucky says confidently. Dr. Rothberg’s well aware that Bucky doesn’t like extended hospital stays. Bucky really just wants to get home and have sex with Steve, that is his entire agenda. 

He’s glad he waited, even though his reasons feel a little silly, but he just wants to be as close to Steve as possible. He nuzzles Steve’s neck fondly, blushing a little, thinking about all the things he and Steve can do together. 

“Bucky,” Steve hisses, and Bucky can feel his red cheeks without even looking. Bucky grins but pulls away. Soon. Really, really soon. 

The ambulance finally comes to a stop. 

“You lay back,” Allison instructs, getting up and readying the stretcher. 

“Aw, c’mon,” Bucky groans. “I can walk. At least a wheelchair?” Allison frowns at him, but finally sighs and nods. 

“If Captain Rogers helps you down,” she tells him sternly. Bucky nods. He has absolutely no issue with that. 

She opens the door while Steve stands, looking a little ridiculous in the cramped space of the ambulance. Steve hovers while Bucky stands up and yeah, okay, he’s a little dizzy, but he thinks that’s just pure exhaustion at this point. 

Steve gets down out of the vehicle, where there’s already a nurse and a wheelchair waiting for him. Bucky walks to the edge of the ambulance, where Steve wraps a strong arm around his hips and back, carefully avoiding his arm, and hoists him down like he ways no more than a sack of potatoes. 

Bucky is forcibly reminded of Steve carrying him up the stairs just that morning and how freaking hot it is that his soulmate can manhandle him like that. Bucky means to plant another kiss on Steve, but touching the ground, no matter how gentle Steve is being, jars his arm and makes him wince. Steve whisks him into the wheelchair, giving no opportunity for kisses. 

Bummer. 

Bucky’s always hated the ER. It’s loud and chaotic and people generally stare at him, usually because he’s piled high with blankets in the middle of summer. This time, at least, he’s pretty sure they’re staring ‘cause of Steve. It’s a totally acceptable reason to stare, Bucky admits. He also gets whisked straight through the ER into an examination room, which  _ has  _ to be because of Steve. Nobody gets service like that in a big hospital like New York Presbyterian.

But Dr. Rothberg and his ma are also waiting for him, so maybe it’s not all Steve. 

“Bucky!” His ma cries and swoops down to hug him. Despite her enthusiasm, she’s gentle, and it hardly hurts his arm at all. “Oh, Bucky, we were so worried about you!”

“Ma,” Bucky sighs, leaning into her familiar warmth. He’d been so focused on Steve all day, but there was nothing in the world that could make him feel better than a hug from his ma. This day had been horrible and terrifying and while Steve’s touch was biologically designed to make Bucky feel better, there was no competing with his ma, who had been there for every hospital stay and every lonely day, who had uprooted her entire life to make sure Bucky could have more of a childhood. “Ma, they were gonna cut my bond. They said - they were going to -” Bucky his his face in his ma’s hair, feeling tears coming on. 

“Oh, honey!” His ma gasps, hugging him a little tighter. “You must have been so scared.”

And honestly, it’s a relief to hear that, just to have that fear validated. Because he was so afraid, all the way into his bones. Bucky’s never been that afraid in his life, and it maybe felt a little silly, once Steve got to him. Because  _ of course  _ that wasn’t going to happen.  _ Of course _ Steve would get to him before they severed the bond. And if they had tried - well Bucky would have fought, no matter the pain in the bond or his fear.  

There’s this sharp spike of panic in Steve, too, an echo of the fear that Bucky had felt (and still feels, every time he considers the possibility). Bucky probes the bond with a gentle wave of affection and curiosity. He knows how terrible today was for him, the fear and pain still echoing around his head, but he doesn’t know what it was like for Steve. 

It’s like being dropped face first into a swamp of guilt and self-recrimination. It oozes over Bucky’s skin, clinging and making him feel dirty down to his bones, and oh  _ no. _

Bucky pulls back from his ma. 

“Steve,” he gasps, reaching out. Bucky’s ma moves out of the way automatically. Steve ducks his chin and doesn’t meet Bucky’s eyes. Reaching out with his good hand, Bucky grabs Steve’s arm and tugs him closer. “Steve, it wasn’t your fault.” 

Steve winces and glances at Bucky’s ma and Dr. Rothberg, clearly not wanting to discuss this in front of them. And yeah, Bucky gets that. There’s not much  _ he’d  _ keep from them, but Steve is a private person, and more than that, he’s  _ shy _ . He doesn’t want to reveal anything intimate to them that he doesn’t have to. 

“We’re gonna talk about it later,” Bucky says. “But I don’t want you blaming yourself.”

Steve shrugs a single shoulder and Bucky sighs. He tries to stretch up to give Steve a kiss, but his arm complains loudly and then Steve’s gone all fluttery. 

“Can we please get him some pain meds?” Steve asks Dr. Rothberg, voice urgent. 

“I’m sorry, Steve.” Dr. Rothberg sounds honestly apologetic, but it sucks to hear anyway. Bucky’s never broken a bone before and it  _ hurts.  _ “He has to have an x-ray first, so we can better evaluate the break and make a treatment plan.”

“How long is he going to have to wait for that?” Bucky reached out and tugged on Steve’s uniform top, because Bucky’s pain was no reason for Steve to be rude to Dr. Rothberg. Steve deflates a little. “Sorry, sir. I just - I don’t like him being in pain.”

“Quite right, too,” Dr. Rothberg says with a smile, patting Steve on his shoulder. “Now, let’s get Bucky onto this bed for a quick exam while we wait for radiology, alright?”

Bucky sighs, not really looking forward to being poked and prodded. He goes to stand up, but Steve leans down and scoops him up, easy as anything. Steve’s touch is tender and careful and it feels good to be so close to him, so Bucky doesn’t really mind that he probably looks ridiculous, cradled bridal style in Steve’s arms. 

Gently, Steve lays him down on the bed and then goes to take a step back, but Dr. Rothberg quickly says, “You stay there, Steve. Just sit down beside him. James, your mom told me that you’ve been separated almost a whole day. The best thing for both of you right now is contact and proximity.”

“A whole day?” Bucky asks. It’s not like he had a very good sense of time while he was with those creeps. It felt a whole lot longer and a whole lot shorter all at once. 

“Yeah,” and  _ woah,  _ Steve’s voice and body is filled with a wealth of pain that has been carefully tamped down but no less terrible than what Bucky had suffered, all the hours without Steve. Bucky grabs onto Steve and pulls him down onto the bed. Steve presses their hips together and keeps his eyes fixed on the tacky and uncomfortable bedspread. The bond aches like a bruise between them, pummeled and hurt. 

“Forced separation in a bond this new can be quite traumatic,” Dr. Rothberg says softly. Bucky scoffs a little. No kidding. “I’d like to take both your vitals to get a sense of how the bond is functioning and then ask some questions, alright? Freddie, if I could get you to step out for just a moment, to give James and Steve some privacy?”

“Of course,” Bucky’s ma says, ‘cause she’s great. She steps over to the bed and gives Bucky and Steve a kiss on the forehead, which makes Steve blush adorably and a soft fuzzy feeling swoops across the bond, like Molly’s fleece socks rubbing on Bucky’s leg when they’re cuddling. 

Dr. Rothberg takes Bucky’s vitals first, tutting over his blood pressure and heat rate. 

“You boys are going to need to take it easy for a while until things settle down again,” he tells them sternly. Bucky really doesn’t have any problem with that. Mostly he just wants to go home and have hot sex with Steve. He wonders if that counts as taking it easy. Probably not. Sex with Steve is probably a really athletic event. Better than going to the gym, for sure. 

Dr. Rothberg turns to Steve, gesturing for him to turn around, away from Bucky. They hold hands, though, so it’s okay. Dr. Rothberg’s eyebrows rise as he takes Steve’s vitals. 

“These are well outside the range you indicated was normal for you.”

“Uh, yeah,” Steve fidgets uncomfortably, that bristly panic stepping up a notch. “I didn’t - it was really hard, being separated, but I couldn’t - I had to stay focused.”

“Ah, so you ignored the bond.” Steve winces a little at that phrasing, and squeezes Bucky’s hand. Bucky squeezes back. He gets it, and he’s glad that Steve was able to power through and find him. Bucky might have been debilitated by pain, but if Steve had been too...well they’d be in a much shittier position right now. “That would certainly affect your vitals like this. They’ll settle with time. Lots of proximity in the next week or two, boys, and as much skin to skin contact as you can manage.”

Bucky and Steve both blush, but Bucky’s happy to hear that Dr. Rothberg is backing up his plan of lots and lots of naked time. The most naked time, really. Bucky grins a bit dopily. 

“Which leads me to my next question. At your last appointment, you had yet to engage in physical intimacy. Is that still true?” 

Steve squirms, discomfort scraping against the bond like an itchy wool sweater, so Bucky answers. His cheeks are hot and he can’t really meet Dr. Rothberg’s eyes, but he knows it’s important to answer his questions honestly. 

“Um, we haven’t, uh, y’know, gone all the way. But we’ve, um, done some other things.” Bucky gets the sense Dr. Rothberg is trying not to laugh at him. 

“Alright,” Dr. Rothberg says a moment later, caterpillar eyebrows no longer amused. “To be frank, that may also be affecting the severity of the impact on your bond. Sex settles the bond and makes it more secure, and without it, bonds do take longer to settle. That is not to say that either of you should engage in any activities that you aren’t comfortable with, but I do want you to be patient as it settles and not push yourselves or the bond in the next few weeks. 

“The last time we met, you boys were going to work on stretching the bond. How long were you up to?” 

“An hour and a half, I think,” Steve says, glancing at Bucky to confirm. 

Bucky nods, “Yeah, Steve was going for a run in the morning and I could go pick my sisters up from school without any issue.”

“Good, good,” Dr. Rothberg says thoughtfully. “I would expect quite a lot of regression in that area - the bond may snap back to its original demands. Unlike the last time I saw you, I don’t want you to attempt to stretch it. In fact, I would suggest you cater to it as much as possible.”

Bucky nods and shifts, momentarily forgetting about his arm. A shooting pain hits him hard and he flinches. Steve’s immediately pressing in closer, hands and body gentle. 

Dr. Rothberg frowns. “I’m going to go check on radiology. You boys rest.”  He slips out the door and he must say something to Bucky’s ma, because she doesn’t come in right away. Aside from their brief reunion in the room Bucky had been held in, this is the first chance they’ve had to be alone. 

Attention brought back to his arm, Bucky is in too much pain to do anything besides groan and lean a little more of his weight into Steve. In turn, Steve wraps his arm around Bucky very, very gently. 

“Lean back,” Steve says softly, “And scooch over.” 

Bucky does. The bed is really too small to hold both of them and no matter how they smush, one of them either is falling off or Bucky’s in even more pain than baseline. Steve frowns and there’s a feeling like turning a jigsaw puzzle piece round and round to try and figure out where it fit. It makes Bucky smile a little. 

“Sit up for a sec,” Steve requests. Bucky does so slowly, careful of his arm where it was strapped haphazardly to his chest with loosely woven gauze. Steve squirms behind Bucky and settles his body against the wall, bracketing Bucky’s hips with his long legs. “Okay, lean back against me now.”

Oh. Yes. Steve cradles Bucky carefully against his broad chest, and the warm lines of his thighs are comforting and sexy all at the same time. Not quite as good as Bucky imagines naked cuddling would be, but probably the best he’s going to get until they get home. Bucky lets himself sink into Steve, knowing that Steve can take his weight, and his head lolls on Steve’s shoulder. Steve presses a kiss into Bucky’s messy hair. 

He loves this man so goddamn much. 

“I was really scared,” Steve admits in a whisper. “I didn’t know if I’d get to you in time.”

“You did,” Bucky answers in the same tone, knowing what this takes Steve to admit. “You found me. We’re going to be okay.” 

Steve kisses his hair again, and then tip of his ear and then his cheek and then down his neck, soft, open mouthed kisses that make tension seep out of both of them. Bucky’s hurting too much to get turned on, but it just feels good to have contact with Steve. One of Steve’s big, strong hands comes around and rests on Bucky’s belly. The hand on Bucky’s left rests on his thigh, careful not to touch the broken arm even a little. 

“I knew you were coming,” Bucky says. “I knew you were coming for me.” 

Bucky can feel how much that means to Steve, the calm wave of reassurance that spreads out from his chest and settles in his limbs. For a minute they just lie there, pressed together. Bucky lets himself hurt, knowing Steve will help him deal with the pain. 

There’s a knock on the door, and a moment later Bucky’s ma peeks her head in. Bucky can feel Steve blushing, embarrassed to be in such an intimate position in front of Bucky’s ma. But he doesn’t try to move, not even a little, and that makes warmth flood Bucky. Steve feels safe here, with Bucky and with his ma. Bucky’s ma carefully closes the door behind her. 

“I have a change of clothes for you, Steve. I thought you might like to put on more comfortable clothes before they take Bucky to radiology.”

“That would be good. Thanks, Freddie.” Steve says Bucky’s ma’s name shyly, carefully, but it’s the first time Bucky’s heard him use it, rather than just work around calling her anything at all. 

“You’re very welcome, Steve. I’ll just keep guarding the door out here,” she winks at them and leaves without another word. Bucky really, really loves his ma. 

Steve sighs, the air puffing through Bucky’s disheveled hair, and says, “I guess I should get up and get changed.” 

Bucky makes a whiny noise of protest and is immediately embarrassed about it. But Steve just huffs a happy laugh and strokes a hand up Bucky’s good arm. 

“I’ll be quick,” Steve promises. Reluctantly, Bucky sits up, letting Steve slide out from behind him. At the very least, he gets to watch Steve undress, which isn’t exactly a hardship. Steve blushes a little, as though he can tell what Bucky is thinking, but he meets Bucky’s eyes and smiles too. 

Of course, Steve doesn’t undress anymore than what Bucky’s already seen - doesn’t even get shirtless, it turns out, because there’s a white cotton tee under his uniform that Steve keeps on as he buttons one of his dorky old man shirts. Bucky’s ma thinks they’re ‘handsome,’ so of course that’s what she picked out. Steve  _ is  _ pretty scandalous in boxer shorts, though. Bucky’s familiar enough with the shape and size of Steve’s dick through clothes, now, and he can confirm that it’s definitely a porn dick. 

He’s actually pretty excited about that now, and there’s only a slight nervous edge about exactly what Steve will want or expect from Bucky. Bucky’s pretty sure they can figure it out. Looking up from where he was accidentally ogling Steve’s dick, Bucky meets Steve’s eyes and blushes deeply. Oops. 

Steve grins and pulls up his jeans, fingers deftly fastening the button and buckling the belt. He’s about to say something when there’s another knock at the door, which opens without a response. 

It’s Dr. Rothberg and a nurse. 

“Alright, James, time for your x-ray. Steve can go with you, but he’ll have to step out during the actual x-ray.”

“I’m not leaving him,” Steve says firmly, which does funny things to Bucky’s insides. “The radiation doesn’t affect me. We’d be worse off with me out of the room than me getting a little radiation.”

The word  _ we  _ reverberates through Bucky like the tolling of the bells in the church at the end of his road. It’s weird, ‘cause they’re already a we. They’ve always been a we. But Bucky’s not sure Steve’s ever called them a we, not like this. 

Dr. Rothberg hesitates for a moment. But Steve’s standing there looking all stern and Captain America-y, even though he’s not wearing his uniform, and it’s a pretty convincing sight. Bucky’s only a  _ little  _ biased, really. 

“Alright,” Dr. Rothberg nods. “Let me write a note for the tech, otherwise they’ll give you trouble about it.” 

While Dr. Rothberg does that, Steve gently lifts Bucky out of the bed again, even though Bucky is perfectly capable of walking on his own. 

“I didn’t break my leg, y’know,” Bucky teases, grinning up at Steve happily. 

Steve smiles. “I know.” 

Steve even insists on pushing the wheelchair, though the nurse isn’t happy about it. 

Bucky’s not sure what he was expecting, but the actual x-ray experience sucks. The tech unwraps his arm and makes him hold it in a couple really uncomfortable positions. Bucky’s a total wimp about it, and if Steve wasn’t standing right there, holding his hand and sending these warm, buzzy feelings down the bond, he totally would have cried. 

He’s had a long ass day. 

It doesn’t get any better from there. They go back to the room where Bucky’s ma is waiting. Dr. Rothberg’s been called off to some other crisis, now that Bucky and Steve’s bond has been evaluated, so it’s just the three of them as they wait for the radiologist to read the results. 

That part isn’t so bad. He and Steve cuddle on the bed some more, and it turns out Bucky’s ma had brought her tablet, so they get to watch  _ Futurama  _ for a bit, which is fun. Steve’s never seen it, but Fry’s experiences make him laugh and nod a lot. The wifi is predictably crappy and the video keeps buffering endlessly, so Bucky’s ma tells stories from Bucky’s childhood. Some of them are mortifying, but a lot of them just make Bucky feel all schmoopy inside. 

It’s when the nurse comes back, that things take a turn for the truly awful. And maybe on any other day, Bucky would have been able to handle the whole thing with a little more dignity. As it is, the giant needle comes out and Bucky hides his face in Steve’s chest and squeezes his hand so hard, he’s surprised Steve isn’t protesting. But Steve just sits there, acting all calm, even though Bucky can tell it’s almost impossible for Steve to sit there and let the nurse hurt him, even if it  _ is  _ to help him in the long run. 

And then, to make it even worse, the nurse calls in a second nurse and they spend several minutes tugging at his arm until they judge it “reduced,” whatever the hell that means. His arm doesn’t hurt any more after the giant ass needle, but it’s not precisely comfortable either. But Steve holds his hand and strokes his hair, and it’s sort of alright. He has to go back for another xray after that, and then more waiting, and then the nurse who had stuck him with the giant needle comes back to splint his arm and settle it into a sling. 

He has to come back in a couple days for a proper cast, which is the last thing he wants to do, really. Plus, the nurse firmly tells him no strenuous activities and Steve’s doing that thing where’s he listening all attentively and nodding a lot. Bucky may have to wait for his sex, which sucks. Now that he feels ready, he really doesn’t want to wait at all. 

Bucky’s ma drove, so she goes to get the car, while Bucky and Steve go to fill the script for Bucky’s pain meds, which turn out to be nothing more than ibuprofen and tylenol that his insurance pays for. By the time Bucky and Steve climb into the back of his ma’s minivan, Bucky is yawning every other breath. 

The roads are still kind of a mess, so they have to take a roundabout route, and Bucky falls asleep before they even get out of Manhattan. 

*

Bucky wakes up when the van door opens and blinks sleepily as street light floods into the car. He goes to use his left arm to help himself sit up, but the sling stops him. There’s still not much pain, just a dull ache. 

Steve’s side of the bond drags with tiredness too, but Steve gently helps him out of the van. It’s well after dark now, and the houses around them are mostly quiet. Open shades spill squares of light onto the ground and their front door opens, revealing Bucky’s dad, Becca, and Samantha. They run down the steps toward him, but his dad grabs them. 

“Careful girls,” he warns. Bucky kinda wishes he hadn’t though, cause Samantha’s lips starts to tremble and Becca gets all stiff, the way she does when she’s trying not to show that she feels things. 

“It’s okay,” Bucky says, stepping forward and holding out his good arm for a hug. He really isn’t hurting much at all right now, and he really wants a hug from his family. The little ones are probably asleep, but maybe Bucky can peek in and kiss them goodnight. Bucky manages to wrap both his sisters into a hug with just the one arm, and then gets to lean into his dad’s broad, familiar chest for several long moments. 

“We were so worried,” Bucky’s dad says, his voice rumbling against Bucky’s cheek. 

“I’m okay,” Bucky whispers. “I’m okay. Steve found me.” 

Bucky’s dad gives him a tight, but careful, squeeze and lets him go. Steve immediately comes into Bucky’s space again, and Bucky relaxes into the cradle of Steve’s strong arms. The bond feels a bit like someone punched him really, really hard in the stomach, and Steve’s touch is the only thing that eases the ache. As much as Bucky would like to linger in a traditional Barnes family group hug, what he really needs is to be alone with Steve. 

He can tell his parents get it, because his ma hustles the girls off to bed while Bucky’s dad brings them into the kitchen, where there’s a stack of sandwiches and some leftover pizza. Bucky is suddenly overwhelmingly hungry. There hadn’t been time to be hungry before, and all the other things going on had kept Bucky from noticing just how hungry and thirsty he is. Luckily, his parents have thought ahead. 

Bucky and Steve scooch two chairs as close together as they can manage, letting their arms press together as they eat in silence. Bucky’s dad sits on the other side of the table, just looking at him, but Bucky doesn’t mind. It’s nice, really, to be here in his kitchen with his dad and Steve. They’re safe and together and home, and it’s really, really good. 

Steve must not have eaten much while Bucky was gone, either, because they quickly finish the sandwiches and pizza, and Steve is still hungry. He shifts a little in his chair, not going to say anything, but Bucky could do with a little more food too. 

“Dad, could you make us quesadillas?” Bucky asks through a yawn. He went through a phase when he was about eight where all he would eat were quesadillas and tomatoes. It was right after Rebecca was born and Bucky’s ma was always overtired and busy - Rebecca had been a nightmare baby - so Bucky and his dad had been in charge of food. 

“Sure thing, Bucky,” Bucky’s dad says, a fond sort of smile on his face, like he’s remembering those days too. “How many do you want?”

“I want one. Steve wants three.” 

Steve makes a noise of protest, “That’s really not necessary, sir.” 

“Nonsense,” Bucky’s dad says. “You brought my boy home, the least I can do is make you some dinner.” 

The swamp of guilt returns abruptly, making Bucky shiver a little. He reaches out and puts his hand on Steve’s chin, turning Steve’s face to look at him. Bucky speaks quietly, knowing that Steve will be able to hear him, but firmly. “This wasn’t your fault.”

“You were upset - mad at me. If you hadn’t been you wouldn’t have left the house.”

“They just would’ve taken me some other time.” Bucky’s sure of this. The man had clearly been targeting Bucky specifically because he was Captain America’s soulmate - which Bucky is definitely not going to tell Steve about - and would have come for him eventually, even if it wasn’t that day. “Maybe even if I went to go pick up Lizzie and Molly from school.”

Steve shrugs, unconvinced. 

“Steve.” Bucky gives Steve a hard look. “The men who took me are responsible. They were wackos and creeps and kinda evil, too. They were messed up people and that’s the reason they took me. It has nothing to do with you.”

“They didn’t want Captain America to have a soulmate.” 

Damn it. Bucky had really been hoping to keep that from Steve. 

Bucky’s dad turns on the radio, quietly giving them a little more privacy as he cooks. Bucky has really awesome parents. 

“Okay, yeah, but they thought that because they’re fucked in the head Steve. If it wasn’t me, it would have been some other celebrity’s soulmate, probably some actor or something who wouldn’t have been able to find them the way you found me. And I’m okay. They didn’t hurt me too bad and they didn’t separate us, and you found me.”

Steve bites his lip. Bucky can tell this guilt is going to be stubborn, but he will determinedly drain the swamp again and again for weeks or months or years, until Steve 100% believes him. Bucky stretches up to kiss Steve, pouring his affection across the bond like hot tea on a cold winter day. 

Steve’s still dwelling, but he kisses back, soft and tender and wonderful. Bucky’s dad clears his throat and puts plates on the table. Steve pulls back flushing and mumbling an apology, which just makes Bucky’s dad grin and shake his head. He leans down to give Bucky a kiss on the crown of his head, like he’s still eight years old. Bucky smiles and glows a little, just really happy to be home. 

They eat in silence, Bucky’s brain getting fuzzy with complete exhaustion. Once they’ve finished eating, Steve scoops Bucky up, easy as anything, and carries him upstairs. Bucky’s asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

He doesn’t even get to ask Steve to naked cuddle with him.

  
  



	10. we're only saying that love's a force that's powerful and strange

Bucky wakes a couple times during the night, with Steve hovering over him and holding out a pill and a glass of water, but he easily drifts back off to sleep after, and doesn’t properly wake until the late morning sun spills in through the top floor windows. It’s actually a knock on the door that wakes him, and Steve’s soft voice calling out, “Come in!”

Groaning, Bucky stretches, only to abruptly remember his broken arm. He’s actually impressed that he slept so well, given that. Bucky snuggles closer into Steve’s side and Steve obligingly puts an arm around him. Blinking tired eyes, Bucky realizes that his ma was the one who knocked on the door, and she’s coming in with a pile of breakfast foods on a tray. Over the last week, Bucky’s family has started to learn just how much food Steve can put away in one meal. 

“You boys didn’t come down for breakfast, and I knew Steve would be hungry,” Bucky’s ma says. 

“You’re awesome,” Bucky mumbles, trying to sit up. It’s awkward with only one functional arm, but Steve braces him and helps him up the rest of the way. 

“Thanks honey,” his ma laughs, settling the tray down on Bucky’s desk. “You boys take it easy, alright? George and I are going to take the girls to the science museum, keep them out of your hair. You rest up.” 

Bucky’s ma is the most excellent person alive, he’s pretty sure. He scooches toward the end of the bed, since Steve’s got him barricaded against the wall. Bucky’s ma comes over to give him a kiss and a hug, patting his cheek fondly and telling him she loves him. 

Steve’s grief is a small thing that only hits a little, overwritten with fondness and warmth. 

“M’gonna go the bathroom,” Bucky tells Steve once his ma leaves. He gets up carefully.

Steve says, “okay,” but the bond goes a little panicked and tight, clutching Bucky closely to Steve. Still, Bucky’s gotta piss. He hurries, though, not wanting to be away from Steve any more than Steve wants to be away from him. Bucky catches sight of himself of the mirror and grimaces. He looks gross. 

His hair is all greasy and he’s still wearing the clothes he was kidnapped in, which  _ yuck _ . There’s an itchy growth of stubble on his face, too. Though he doesn’t always shave everyday, he hadn’t shaved for a couple days before he got kidnapped and now he just feels unkempt and uncomfortable. Bucky washes his hand and face, manages to awkwardly brush his teeth, which feel slimy and disgusting, and heads back to Steve, so they can figure out how Bucky can take a shower. He suspects that the bond will be much like it was the first morning, not letting them be properly apart even for the length of a short shower and Bucky wants a  _ long  _ shower, with lots of soap and a shave. 

Plus, there’s the splint to think about. Bucky doesn’t remember what the nurse said about showering last night, but he’s sure Steve does. 

Steve’s gotten up from bed and is setting up a plate of food for each of them. Bucky’s stomach rumbles. Alright, food first then. 

“After we eat,” Bucky says as he sits down on the edge of his bed, “I want to take a shower. Do you remember what the nurse said about my splint?”

“Plastic bag,” Steve says, moving the tray further down the desk and pulling out Bucky’s chair. “Here, sit here. You won’t have to hold the plate that way.”

“You’re a genius,” Bucky grins. Despite his grossness, he leans into Steve’s space for a kiss good morning, which Steve immediately provides. At some point in the week and a half Bucky’s known Steve, kissing has started to feel less weird. It’s still weird if he thinks about it too much (like, why is it sexy to press your mouth to someone else’s mouth, that’s actually kinda gross), so he doesn’t think about it. He just lets it feel good. Steve’s hand slides around Bucky, settling on Bucky’s back and pressing their bodies together. 

But there’s something a little different, something a little restrained and careful, in Steve’s movements and in the slide of the bond between them. 

Bucky’s stomach rumbles loudly and Steve pulls back, not giving Bucky a chance to explore the feeling in the bond any further. Later, he decides, after breakfast. 

Like last night, they eat in silence, both of them hungry enough that all they want to do is focus on their food. But Bucky can feel Steve’s gaze on him, an itching in the bond to be close and to see him, to know where he is. Which, yeah. Bucky gets that. 

Bucky finishes eating first, of course, so he returns to bed, curling up by the headboard with his toes pressed to Steve’s thigh. 

“I don’t think the bond will let me take a shower on my own,” Bucky says, voice faux-casual. “Would you mind coming into the bathroom with me? Maybe helping me with my splint and stuff.”

Bucky’s definitely ready to be naked with Steve. Still, he can’t help the flush that builds on his cheeks as he thinks about it. Steve will be the first person to ever see Bucky naked who wasn’t a doctor or his parents. It’s kind of a big deal. 

Steve startles a little and puts his empty plate down. He turns to look at Bucky, eyebrows furrowed and eyes intent. “You weren’t ready for that before.”

Bucky blushes and fidgets, fixing his gaze on his Harry Potter bed sheets. It reminds him of sitting here, just the other morning, while Steve told him he’d had sex with other people. A little of the upset lingers, and there’s a good dose of jealousy in there, too. But mostly, Bucky finds he doesn’t mind. It’s a little exciting, to think of Steve knowing what he’s doing. It’ll make Bucky’s first time better, probably. 

“I changed my mind.” 

Steve’s eyebrows carve even deeper lines into his forehead. Carefully, he takes Bucky’s good hand in his large, strong hand. He curls his fingers around the back of Bucky’s hand, almost cupping it, rather than holding it. 

“We don’t have to rush,” Steve says, and he’s so earnest. Bucky wants to squish him. “There’s no hurry. I don’t want you to think that you have to, just because…” Steve trails off, pressing his lips together and not quite meeting Bucky’s gaze. 

“I’m not rushing,” Bucky promises. He feels Steve’s disbelief and he gets it. He can’t completely explain why he feels ready now and he didn’t before, but he does. “I promise.”

Steve studies him for a moment. Bucky knows that Steve can feel his sincerity and Bucky backs it up with a firm press of warmth and want in the bond, which, delightfully, makes the tips of Steve’s ears go pink. 

“You were really upset,” Steve says after a moment. “That I’d - that I’d been with other people.” Steve pauses, licks his lips, thinking. But Bucky doesn’t give him the chance to continue. 

“Yeah, I was,” he admits. There’s no lying about that. No lying about anything with Steve, really. “I was surprised and it wasn’t what I had expected when I thought about my first time. But that doesn’t mean it’s bad or anything. I just had - to get used to the idea. It was silly, to be so upset.”

“It wasn’t silly.” Steve’s voice is firm and it makes Bucky’s insides do a fond sort of wiggle. 

“It was a little silly. It doesn’t matter that you’ve been with other people. You’re with me now and when we…” Bucky trails off, blushing again. “When we, y’know, it’s just gonna be us. No one else matters.”

Steve studies him a moment, before nodding, and leaning in for a kiss. Bucky happily obliges him. It’s nice to just sit there and kiss for a moment, but Bucky still feels too gross to let it get any more heated than that. 

“Shower?” he requests, pulling back. 

“Are you really sure you want me to help with that?” Steve stands as he asks the question, holding out a hand to help Bucky up. 

“I wanna be naked with you,” Bucky says, trying and failing to suppress his deep blush. Steve laughs, sounding surprised, and smiles fondly at him. 

“You’re really cute, y’know that?” 

Bucky’s not sure whether to be flattered or offended, but decides to be flattered based off the fond amusement purring in the bond. 

He grins, and says, “Thanks.” 

“I should run down and grab a bag for your arm.”  The bond decidedly does not like the idea of Steve all the way down in the kitchen without him. 

“We’ll go down together,” Bucky offers. “And then we can go use my ma and dad’s bathroom - the shower in there is bigger, it’ll be easier.”

Steve squirms a bit at that idea, probably uncomfortable with being any sort of intimate in Bucky’s parents’ space. Which, yeah, Bucky gets that. He feels the same way, really, but that shower is much better equipped to handle his broken arm. Plus, if Steve decides he just  _ has  _ to get in with Bucky - to help, of course - that shower will actually fit both of them. 

Just in case that’s a thing that needs to happen. 

By the time they gather the plastic bag and towels and a spare plastic bag and then Bucky’s soap and shampoo so he doesn’t have to smell like his parents, he is admittedly feeling just a little nervous. Steve’s actually scientifically engineered to be the perfect male specimen and Bucky’s just an engineering student. 

Not that he’s bad-looking or out of shape or anything. He’s pretty active and plays a couple intramural sports, really casually, but he’s just finished his senior year and he barely had time to breathe, let alone be active. Bucky doesn’t know what the men Steve’s been with looked like, but he’s betting they were gorgeous. 

But then he remembers that some of those people were probably back when Steve was tiny and sick all the time. Not that Steve wasn’t also super attractive then (Bucky’s seen pictures, he knows), but it was a different sort of handsome. Steve probably had hang ups about his body, then. And it’s not like Steve ever expects Bucky to be perfect.

It’ll be fine. 

Bucky gets the water running. His parents are on the third floor, so it doesn’t take quite as long for the water to get hot as it does in his bathroom, but it still takes a few minutes. 

And then he’s standing there in the middle of his parents’ bathroom, staring at Steve and wondering exactly how he’s supposed to do this. Does he just start getting naked? Would it be ridiculous to ask Steve to turn around while Bucky got undressed, even though Steve’s going to see him naked in just a minute? Somehow, the prospect of undressing seems much more daunting than the prospect of nakedness. 

“Relax,” Steve says in a whisper, stepping a little closer. “Do you want help with your shirt?”

That’s actually a good point, Bucky realizes, not sure how he was planning to get it off on his own. He’d taken the sling off last night and never got around to putting it on again this morning, but the splint is cumbersome, and makes his arm awkwardly stiff. And Steve’s taken off Bucky’s shirt before, when they were making out. That’s familiar territory. 

Bucky breathes a sigh of relief and nods. Steve steps into his space, smiling at him, eyes kind of alarmingly blue. How on earth did Bucky get so lucky? Steve kisses him as he starts to tug the t-shirt off, running fingertips along Bucky’s skin as he goes. 

...somehow Bucky didn’t think about the fact that he’s inevitably going to get hard during this shower. He was so focused on the nudity, that he didn’t really remember what effects being naked and close to Steve would have. But it’s fine, Bucky tells himself, Steve’s been with other guys. It’s not like he’s never seen a hard-on before. 

Steve’s gentle as he pulls the t-shirt over Bucky’s head and down over the splint. He crowds in a little closer, resuming their kiss, and then starting to kiss down Bucky’s neck. Bucky sighs and lets his head fall back. Steve nibbles and sucks at all the places he’s discovered make Bucky shiver and sigh. 

Broad, strong hands sweep over Bucky’s exposed skin, settling on his hips. Steve turns his attention back to kissing Bucky. It’s just lazy, tender kisses, not even making out, not really. The kisses feel kinda silly, ‘cause they’re not leading anywhere. It’s just wasting time. 

But Bucky doesn’t mind. 

“Can I take your pants off?” 

Bucky snorts. He can’t help it, the question just sounds so ridiculous. Steve makes a fake affronted noise and rubs his nose over Bucky’s cheekbones. Which is just - why does that, of all things, give Bucky butterflies? Bucky huffs a laugh, amused and fond and just really, really happy. He lets his forehead thunk forward onto Steve’s absurdly muscled shoulder and nods. 

Steve kisses his ear, confirms Bucky’s consent in the sea of the bond between them, and lets his hands come around and start tugging at the button of Bucky’s jeans. Bucky leans up for a kiss. This, too, is not completely unfamiliar. They’ve wiggled out of pajama pants together a couple times, though mostly Bucky has liked to keep their pants on. It felt like a really clear, firm boundary. 

He doesn’t want any more boundaries between them any more. Bucky just wants everything to belong to both of them, to know Steve in all the ways it is possible to know another human being. 

Steve’s tongue sweeps over Bucky’s lips, falling into a more familiar pattern of kissing. Heat is growing between them and Bucky’s dick is starting to stir a little, perking up and showing some interest in the proceedings, as it were. Bucky lets himself focus on kissing Steve. When his jeans fall down and puddle around his feet, he has to awkwardly tug them the rest of the way off with his feet so he doesn’t have to stop kissing Steve. 

The next step is Bucky’s boxers, and it makes him a little nervous. 

“Here,” Steve whispers, guiding Bucky’s hand to his t-shirt, taking the pressure off Bucky. Having Steve shirtless is a good answer to most problems, Bucky thinks, but is especially good right now. Still, when Steve’s shirt has been tugged all the way off, leaving his blond hair adorably disheveled, Bucky hesitates before the next obvious step.

“Can - I, can we keep your pants on? Just for a little bit.” Bucky asks, suddenly shy. He can’t meet Steve’s gaze, but Steve presses a tender kiss to Bucky’s cheek. 

“Of course.” Steve pauses, licking his lips, brow furrowing a little. Finally he says, “Let me get the bag for your arm.” 

Steve turns around and without really thinking it through, Bucky tugs off his boxers. He can tell that Steve knows what he’s doing, but Steve tries really hard to be casual when he turns back around. But his eyes can’t seem to help sweeping down the length of Bucky’s body. He licks his lips again, this time with a lot more intent, and meets Bucky’s gaze, pupils blown. There’s a pink flush on Steve’s cheeks and spreading down his neck to his perfect pecs and all in all, it’s a pretty gratifying reaction. 

Taking a hesitant step closer, Steve lets his eyes run over Bucky’s body once more, a lot slower. Bucky has to resist the urge to squirm and try and hide. Steve’s side of the bond is hot with desire, a molten thing like melted chocolate or the palpable heat of the summer sun, and that makes it easier to stand there and let Steve look. 

It’s more than a little weird, but it’s the kind of good weird Bucky’s come to associate with most sexy things. It’s kind of uncomfortable and makes him a little self conscious, but also lights a fire in his belly and makes it hard to remember why he’d wanted to wait in the first place. 

And then Steve’s up in his space and coaxing a plastic bag over Bucky’s splint, which should totally ruin the mood, but Steve’s eyes are hot on Bucky’s face and Bucky’s head is filling with a familiar turned on fuzz. Steve neatly ties the bag over the splint and then his hand travels up Bucky’s arm and down his back, callused fingers leaving hot trails on Bucky’s skin. 

Bucky lets out a breathy sigh. He’s almost completely hard now, which is frankly a little embarrassing, because who gets this turned on from a little nakedness and some gentle touching. But there’s not an ounce of judgement in Steve, just wonder and desire and joy, and honestly those feelings might have more to do with how hard Bucky is than the actual physical touches. 

“C’mon.” Steve’s voice has fallen to a whisper, as though he’s afraid to disturb the air that’s heating up around them. Slowly, a hand comes to rest on Bucky’s naked hip, fingers resting lightly on his exposed ass. Gently, Steve guides him into the shower. Bucky feels like he’s moving through molasses. His body feels heavy and slow with desire and it’s so, so good. 

It’s nice to step into the water and Bucky turns his face into the spray. Steve stays back, taking his hands away. Bucky immediately mourns the loss. 

“I’m just gonna sit here,” Steve says. “Tell me if you need any help.”

“Okay,” Bucky nods, opening his eyes. For several minutes the bathroom is quiet. It takes some figuring, but Bucky manages to open his body wash bottle and squirt some on the necessary body parts. It’s a little more wasteful than if he could pour it into his hands, but not too bad. 

It’s difficult to wash with just one hand, but not undoable. It’s complicated by trying to keep his bad arm out of the direct flow of water, but Bucky manages to soap up his chest and pits. Steve’s gaze stays on him. At first, it feels awkward and uncomfortable, but as the minutes tick by it starts to feel a little easier. Still, Bucky feels self conscious as he washes, especially when he has to go for his dick and balls. But it’s not like he can skip that, not if there’s gonna be any kind of sexy times. 

Steve’s gaze is hot and heavy on his skin, dragging over him like a physical thing, and it’s ridiculously arousing. Bucky kinda hisses when his hand drifts down to his dick and without really thinking about it, he gives himself a lazy stroke. There’s been  _ a lot  _ of jerking off in the shower recently. Bucky’s inexperienced, not dead after all and Steve is really fucking hot and it’s not that Bucky doesn’t  _ want  _ him. Of course he wants him. And now Steve is sitting  _ right there  _ and watching like Bucky’s a one-man porn show. 

Bucky swallows and licks his lips and gives himself another, more deliberate stroke. Steve watches and then meets his eyes. Steve’s tenting his pants now and can Bucky can feel his arousal across the bond, and a restless desire to touch and be touched. 

Bucky’s not sure how to invite Steve over, how to tell him he wants to be touched, now. Instead he ends up saying, “Can you help me wash my hair?”

Nodding, Steve stands. His erection is even more obvious now that he’s standing and Bucky wants to touch it, like he did the morning he got kidnapped, but maybe even more than that. Maybe he wants to slip his hand into Steve’s pants, feel skin on skin. Bucky’s never touched anybody else’s dick, doesn’t know how they might be different or how they might be the same. The curiosity and want itches. 

“Turn around,” Steve’s voice has gone low and rough, which,  _ yes, good _ . Bucky does as he’s told, feels Steve step into the shower, his big body radiating heat at Bucky’s back. The shampoo opens and closes and then Steve’s hands are threading through his hair and rubbing at his scalp and this was a really fucking great idea. Bucky moans without meaning too and Steve steps in closer. His clothes must be getting soaked. 

Oh. Wet Steve. Wet Steve is going to be so awesome.  

In fact, Bucky is tempted to turn around right then, just to catch a glimpse. But Steve’s hands are kind of magical, really, and tension Bucky didn’t even know he was still holding starts to fall away. Of course, some of that might just be Steve being so close, which relaxes and settles the bond. 

“Okay, rinse,” Steve says too soon, breath puffing over Bucky’s wet skin, making a shiver course down Bucky’s spine. Things like that really shouldn’t be so fucking sexy. Bucky turns, mostly so he can rinse his hair but also because he really wants to see Steve all wet and half naked. Okay, maybe  _ mostly  _ because he wants to see Steve all wet and half naked. 

It’s just as awesome as predicted. ‘Cause even though Steve looks a little like a drowned cat with his blond hair plastered against his face and his stupidly long eyelashes all clumped together, the water runs down Steve’s chest in rivulets that Bucky wants to lick up. 

It’s not weird. He’s thirsty. Shut up. 

And even though Steve’s still wearing his pants, since Bucky got all shy, they’re all wet and not really doing anything to hide the arc of Steve’s dick or the lines of muscle on his thighs. Bucky blinks, not really believing he’s in the shower,  _ naked _ , with a man this attractive. And that Steve is so obviously turned on by him in return, that he so clearly finds Bucky attractive and sexy. 

Steve ducks his head, intent clear. 

Kissing under the water is a whole new kind of strange, because there’s water running into his mouth and it’s a little hard to breathe, but it’s always a little hard to breathe when Steve kisses him like this - with little nibbles on his lips and sucking Bucky’s bottom lip into his mouth. Bucky doesn’t know if he’ll ever stop over thinking why kissing feels good, but he intends to spend the rest of his life desensitizing himself to the surprise of it. Steve presses even closer and Bucky’s naked chest is all pressed up against Steve’s naked chest, and Bucky’s naked dick is pressed into the sopping wet fabric of Steve’s sweatpants and it’s just  _ so  _ good. How can touch feel  _ that  _ good? 

Soap runs into Bucky’s eyes and he winces, pulling back. 

“Ow,” he complains. Steve kind of laughs at him. Steve’s kind of an asshole. Bucky’s sure that evil people everywhere torture people by putting soap in their eyes. He’s sure that’s a thing. 

“Hold still,” Steve says, and Bucky can hear his smile, feel the sunshine on water sensation he gets when Steve is just really, really happy. Bucky wants to feel it forever. Steve’s big hands come up to his face, one cupping his chin and the other wiping away soap and water from above Bucky’s eyes. And then he kisses Bucky’s forehead and each cheek and the tip of Bucky’s nose. 

Bucky’s eyes fly open. “Sap,” he accuses, but he can’t help the way the word comes out fond. 

“I’m just really happy,” Steve says and he’s got this stupid grin on his face that makes him look all smushy and adorable. This man is going to kill him, Bucky swears. 

“Yeah, me too,” Bucky agrees. They move out of the water a little, so that the shower stream is hitting their chests rather than their faces, which makes the whole kissing thing a lot easier. Bucky has to keep one arm out of the water, and the other he’s using to cling to Steve’s strong shoulders, mildly afraid he’s going to slip and fall like a total clutz. So it’s Steve who’s doing most of the touching, hands roaming over Bucky’s back and chest, fingers pinching his nipples. 

Bucky had never really paid much attention to his nipples over the years. He is regretting many, many years of jerking off without exploring that. It’s not that it’s necessarily the biggest turn on all on it’s own, but it just wakes up his whole body, makes him pay attention to all the other parts of his body he never really thinks of. Plus, it gets Steve really hot, which in turn get Bucky going like nothing else. 

“Can I…” Steve trails off, one hand coming to rest at the very top of Bucky’s ass. Bucky hesitates just a minute. He’s rarely even let Steve touch his ass through pants and underwear. But he really, really wants to be close to Steve. He wants to explore everything with Steve. 

He’s just also a little nervous. That’s probably normal though. 

Bucky nods, licking his lips and affirming, “Uh-huh.” 

Steve’s hand slides down Bucky’s ass, squeezing and rubbing. Bucky can’t tell if it feels good because he thinks it’s supposed to or because it really does feel good. It’s weird. Nobody’s ever touched his ass before, not like this. 

“Is this okay?” Steve checks, because he’s the best. 

“Kinda weird,” Bucky admits. “Gotta get used to it.”

“Okay. Tell me if you change your mind.” Steve’s other hand has come up to cup Bucky’s face, which is definitely one of his favorites, especially with Steve’s fingers playing with his wet hair. The hand on his ass drifts up again, and gently pulls Bucky in tighter against Steve’s body. Bucky moans, his dick pressing up against Steve’s. But Steve’s sweatpants are stupidly wet and definitely in the way. 

“I wanna take your pants off,” Bucky mumbles. He leans back so he can see Steve’s expression. 

“Oh, good,” Steve says, and then the bond scrambles, like it has just lunged to catch something that’s already fallen. “I mean - I. No pressure, I can keep them on. They’re just really wet.” 

Bucky laughs, relieved and happy and so fucking fond of Steve. “I want ‘em off,” he repeats, tugging at the waist with his good hand. Steve helps and then the sweats are hitting the ground with wet splish. Steve’s boxers are so wet they’re practically translucent. This is a good thing, Bucky decides, staring down the length of Steve’s body. 

Steve starts mouthing at Bucky’s neck, careful not to leave a hickey. At some point in the last week, Steve had accidentally left a hickey too high on Bucky’s neck for him to cover with clothes, and the both of them had walked around in a mild state of embarrassment until it had faded. Molly had helpfully pointed it out at dinner, too, just to make things worse, asking Bucky how he’d bumped his neck like that. 

It is not an experience Bucky is looking to repeat. 

They don’t have to worry about Steve, of course, ‘cause he heals so quick. Not that Bucky’s ever really tried to leave a hickey that lasted...Bucky should test it. For science. 

Making out with Steve’s hand on his ass is actually pretty great, once Bucky gets used to it. It gets even better when Steve starts coaxing Bucky into rocking his hips into Steve’s. Their dicks brush together through the thin cloth of Steve’s boxers and it makes Bucky gasp every single time. There’s no getting used to the heat, or the pure incredulous and spectacular weirdness that is somebody else touching him so intimately. 

Maybe that’s why it all feels so good, Bucky thinks kind of hysterically, as Steve ducks to suck Bucky’s nipple into his mouth. Maybe it’s just that you have to trust someone enough to let them touch you in places you always keep hidden. Maybe it’s just the wonder of having somebody that close. 

Steve looks up, those stupid eyelashes all clumped together and water dripping from his eyebrows. 

“I really want to suck your cock.” 

Bucky momentarily forgets how to breathe. 

“Yes,” he says, too loudly, once he remembers how to pull air into his lungs again. “Yes, please.”

Steve grins at him, all crinkly-eyed, like Bucky’s just given him a present. But Bucky’s the one getting here and he is entirely too excited. Like the kind of excited where he’s going to come way too quick and is probably going to be super embarrassed about it, but right now he doesn’t even care. ‘Cause how many times has Bucky gotten off to the thought of someone putting their mouth  _ there  _ since he discovered that was a thing people did? Too many times, is the answer. Way too many times. 

Steve keeps kissing down Bucky’s belly, biting at the lines of his hips and sucking a mark into the soft part of Bucky’s stomach. Bucky has a momentary flash of insecurity, very aware that Steve is all muscle, not a soft spot or an ounce of fat on him anywhere. And it’s not that Bucky thinks he’s fat, it’s just - well. He’s no Steve. 

But Steve’s side of the bond is this hot rush of desire and want. The only thing mixed in with it is fondness and happiness. There’s no thinking that Steve’s disappointed in the way Bucky’s body is shaped or wishes Bucky looked any other way than the way he does. Steve’s hands settle on Bucky’s hips, fingers curling around and thumbs stroking his lower belly. And then Steve’s nosing at his belly button and kissing down, and then his mouth is on Bucky’s dick and it’s so much better than Bucky ever imagined. And he had imagined it was pretty fucking great. 

Bucky has a brief freak out, wondering if he’s clean enough or if he smells weird or tastes bad, but Steve’s sinking down and his mouth is so  _ hot _ , and Steve’s making this content noise and he just feels so happy on the other side of the bond, and Bucky can’t do anything but feel really fucking good. 

It’s not like Bucky has anything to judge it by, really. He and Steve haven’t even given each other hand jobs before, and nobody else has touched Bucky like this at all. All the same, he’s pretty sure that Steve is really damn good at this. His mouth is hot and his tongue is soft but insistent, tracing the head of Bucky’s dick and swirling about, like he’s tasting a popsicle. It’s an absurd comparison and Bucky grins stupidly. 

He’s getting his first blow job. Holy shit, he’s getting his first blow job! And it’s from Steve, who he loves so much and is so great and kind and sweet. Steve’s fingers wrap around the base of Bucky’s dick, the bit Steve can’t get into his mouth, and his hand is amazing too. The other hand stays on Bucky’s hip, holding him steady. Steve bobs his head and he looks ridiculous and it feels amazing. 

And Bucky’s watched hundred of porn blow jobs, with guys and girls who could deepthroat or the person getting sucked off guiding the other person’s head, so many variations, and Bucky doesn’t think any of them could be better than this - his hand gripping tightly on Steve’s shoulder, still worried he’ll slip and fall, his splinted and bagged arm hanging carefully by his side. Water drips over them, and Steve has to keep blinking it out of his eyes, and he looks honestly kind of stupid, down on the ground and his mouth full of Bucky’s dick, but also like the best thing Bucky has ever seen. 

It lasts two minutes and two hours and forever and not long enough and Bucky definitely, totally comes way too soon. It is pretty solidly the best orgasm he’s ever had and some of that is that he’s never had a blow job before and some of it is Steve’s really good with his mouth and most of it is he can feel how good it makes Steve feel to get Bucky to come. It is a pretty heady mix and Bucky’s pretty sure he’s going to get addicted immediately. 

“I - uh,  _ wow. _ ” Bucky mutters nonsensically. Steve laughs and nuzzles Bucky’s thigh, and it’s suddenly a little weird to have Steve’s face all up in his junk, even though Steve had his mouth on Bucky’s dick only a moment before. Steve stands, slowly, planting kisses on Bucky’s chest as he goes. He turns to wash his mouth out with water that’s starting to turn a little lukewarm before kissing Bucky, which is kinda sweet of him. Bucky wants to find out what Steve tastes like, but he’s not really sure he needs to know how his own jizz tastes. 

The thought makes him realize that he should probably reciprocate. That was only polite, right? But Bucky isn’t sure he’s ready for that. He would have no idea what to do or how to move or anything, and he’s sure to fuck it up, and all he wants is to make Steve feel good, but he’s not sure  _ how  _ and -

“Hey,” Steve interrupts, a gentle hand on Bucky’s cheek. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, okay? I like making you feel good.”

“I want to make you feel good too.” Bucky can’t quite meet Steve’s eyes, feeling kind of stupid and young and really inexperienced. 

Steve kisses him, slow and unhurried, as the water cools around them. The bond is soft and warm and open between them, not an ounce of judgement or resentment in Steve. 

Bucky  _ wants _ . He’s not sure what he wants, but he knows he wants to touch Steve. He wants Steve to come, too, and to feel as awesome as Bucky does. He’s not sure that’s actually possible, since Steve knows what he’s doing and Bucky has no fucking clue. 

Which, actually. That gives him an idea. “Can - um. Can you show me?” Bucky asks, biting his lip and meeting Steve’s eyes, which crinkle into another heart stopping smile. Imani’s always said that’s her best line. And yes, Bucky knows it’s a little weird, taking sex advice from his best friend who doesn’t even sleep with guys, but it’s better than taking his advice from some stupid magazine or blog. Neither of which Bucky will admit to reading, of course. 

The bond stutters and then there’s this tight coil of arousal and want, all mixed up in this feeling that might be love, but Bucky’s not going to name it cause maybe he’s wrong, and anyway, he wants to let Steve tell him. But it feels like coals in a fireplace and a blanket fresh from the dryer, and reading under your covers while it storms outside, lightning cracking across the sky. 

“Yes,” Steve breathes, and he’s so turned on, and Bucky did that, he made Steve look that way and feel that way. Steve reaches up and takes Bucky’s hand, where it still rests on Steve’s shoulder and tugs it down. And with his fingers on top of Bucky’s fingers and their palms cradled together. Bucky’s breath catches in his throat, because this is unexpectedly tender, intimate in a way he wasn’t expecting. 

Steve wraps Bucky’s hand around his dick through the thin, wet fabric of his boxers. Bucky’s heart swells, ‘cause Steve is still taking care of him, still minding the boundaries Bucky’s put in place, not even thinking of pushing them or asking for more than what Bucky wants to give. And then Bucky’s hand is moving on Steve’s dick, which is hot and heavy in his hand and feels so different than touching his own. Steve’s squeezing around Bucky’s hand. 

This is how Steve touches himself, Bucky realizes with a sudden rush of lust. Those times that Bucky sat outside the bathroom and rode the waves of Steve’s arousal, this was how hard Steve touched himself, and this is how he moved his wrist, and he probably rubbed his thumb against the head just like that. The breathy little moans Steve’s emitting Bucky couldn’t have heard through the closed door and the rush of the shower. The sounds are kind of thrilling, as is the way Steve tilts his hips into the press of their hands. 

Steve coaxes Bucky into a kiss while their hands move on Steve’s dick. The kiss is long and relaxed, moseying into the sucks and nibbles that are so perplexingly good, and then back to soft, gentle movement of their lips against each other. There’s a growing echo over the bond, pleasure bouncing between them and building steadily. Steve’s breath starts to come a little quicker. 

“Can I -” Bucky whispers, lips hardly an inch from Steve’s, “under your boxers?” Bucky knows he’s blushing and it feels a little absurd to be this embarrassed to ask to touch Steve, since Steve has had his mouth on Bucky’s dick not ten minutes before. It just feels like a lot. 

But Steve groans out a  _ yes  _ so enthusiastically that’s hard to feel self conscious or weird about it. Steve lets go of Bucky’s hand, though, leaving him to slide his hand into Steve’s boxers and wrap his fingers around Steve’s dick again. Cautiously, Bucky rubs his hand up and down. That gesture is not unfamiliar, though the angle is different. His wrist cramps almost immediately and he has to shift his grip. His fingers accidentally slip over the head of Steve’s dick and it feels different than Bucky’s does. Curious now, Bucky mouths at Steve’s neck while moving his fingers more purposefully over the head of Steve’s dick. It feels like there’s extra skin or someth - oh. 

Steve’s not cut. Air leaves Bucky’s lungs on a whistle. 

“Something wrong?” Steve asks as he presses a kiss to spot right behind Bucky’s ear that makes him feel all melty. Bucky shakes his head, wrapping his hand more firmly around Steve’s dick. What if jerking someone off who has foreskin is totally different than someone who’s cut? But Steve is still making those soft sighs of pleasure. So Bucky relies on what he does know about what makes Steve feel good, while he tries to figure out how to touch his dick the right way. 

Nibbling down Steve’s neck, Bucky curiously rubs the extra skin between his thumb and forefinger, trying to get a sense for it. Steve lets out an unexpected groan, and leans his head on Bucky’s shoulder, breath puffing on his chest. Liquid heat runs between them, turning the rope into a chain of molten gold. 

“Is this okay?” Bucky checks, he glances down at the curve of Steve’s back, feels where Steve’s hands wrest on his hips, thumbs tracing random lines into his skin. 

“So okay.” Steve’s voice has gone low and rough, which is one of Bucky’s favorite things. 

Bucky doesn’t know what sex is like for everybody else, but he thinks it’s probably a little strange that they’re just standing there in the cooling water while Bucky plays with Steve’s dick. Bucky blushes just thinking about it that way, but that’s totally what it is. He’s not really giving Steve a hand job so much as...just playing. 

It’s fun. 

Bucky grins stupidly at nothing. He rubs Steve’s foreskin between his fingers again and then fists Steve’s dick, feeling how the skin rolls over the head and then back. 

“When - ah,” Steve gasps as Bucky squeezes his dick. Bucky puffs up, feeling a little smug. He got Steve to make that sound, him, with absolutely no experience besides his own hand and his own dick. But he’s managing this, he’s making Steve feel good. And he’s gonna get Steve to come and it’s going to be great. “You can touch the head,” Steve whispers, back to kissing over Bucky’s chest and biting gently up his neck. “When you pull back the - yeah. But uh, gentle.”

It’s unexpectedly hot, Steve telling him how to get him off, his strained voice just loud enough for Bucky to hear the advice. And Bucky doesn’t have to worry, with Steve telling him all this. He doesn’t have to wonder if he’s doing it right or if he should be doing something different. Of course, the bond helps a lot. Bucky’s actually not sure how he would manage sex without it. He’d probably be an anxious wreck the whole time, wondering if he was doing it right or if the other person actually felt good. 

But Steve’s instructions, given in that deep voice, are infinitely more helpful and absurdly erotic at the same time. Just Steve mumbling  _ faster  _ or  _ more of that  _ excite Bucky to a probably embarrassing degree, but it doesn’t even matter, because Steve is panting and groaning and then mumbling Bucky’s name and then he’s  _ coming _ . 

Steve’s dick jerks in Bucky’s hand and then there’s come dripping down his hand which, honestly, Bucky has always thought is kind of gross, but it’s fine now, because Bucky made Steve come. He did that. 

They’re kissing again and Steve’s pulling Bucky closer and closer and then the hot water well and truly runs out. 

“It’s cold,” Bucky complains, pulling back. Steve grins, looking kind of dopey, which makes Bucky feel pretty damn proud, he’s not going to lie. 

“Yeah, okay, let’s get out,” Steve agrees. He turns off the water and reaches out of the shower for a towel, which he offers to Bucky. Bucky gladly pulls it around his body, though he doesn’t take his eyes off Steve. This is the most they’ve ever done together and he feels - just, really close to Steve and like he wants to be all up in his space for as long as possible. Cuddling after sex is a thing, right?

It’s definitely a thing, Bucky thinks. 

Despite the fact that Bucky just has his hand on Steve’s dick, Steve takes the care to shed his sopping wet boxers under his towel, quietly respecting the boundary that Bucky hadn’t even spoken. 

He really, really loves this man. 

Steve looks up from his towel arranging and smiles at Bucky - that shy, sweet one that the world doesn’t get to see. Bucky goes over and hugs him, not even feeling weird that they’re half naked and only wearing towels. 

“That was really great,” Bucky tells Steve. Steve laughs, a pleased sounding thing, and kisses the tip of Bucky’s ear. 

“Yeah, for me too.” Which, yeah, Bucky knew that. But it’s nice to hear and it makes him feel all soft and happy inside. “Let’s take off the bag and we can go upstairs and get dressed.”

Bucky had forgotten all about his arm, though now that his attention is back on it, he can tell that the bag did not totally protect the splint. The top of it is kind of gross and wet and Bucky makes a face as Steve pulls off the bag, which drips some more water over everything. There’s an ache starting deep inside of it, too. 

Steve, the total sap, leans and kisses the skin right at the top of the splint. Bucky rolls his eyes at him. “You’re ridiculous.” 

But Steve just smiles some more. 

*

They spend the rest of the morning lazing around in Bucky’s bedroom, intermittently napping and making out. Bucky puts on another Miyazaki, just so he can see that stupid enraptured expression on Steve’s face. 

He can’t believe it’s only been a week and half. Somehow, he’d spent his whole life waiting for Steve but the week that he’s known him feels like a whole lifetime all on it’s own. Bucky’s not sure how he went so many years without snuggling up to Steve and resting his head on Steve’s ridiculously squishy chest. And he’s not sure what life really was without feeling the quiet awe that is Steve experiencing something new that he really, really enjoys. And yeah, he’s not sure how he went so long without making out long and slow and lazy, which is probably one of Bucky’s favorite things. 

It’s corny as shit, but Steve completes him, makes his life fuller and brighter. But that’s kind of the point isn’t it? 

When Bucky’s family gets back from the museum, Steve and Bucky are obliged to go join them, but even that is good. Bucky and Becca simultaneously realise that Steve hasn’t seen most of the Barnes’ family’s favorite Disney movies (there’s an ordered list. Changes in the list require much debate and a majority vote, because they’re all dweebs) and so a bit of a marathon compenses. They decide to start at the top of the list, with  _ Toy Story _ . Steve, predictably but still adorably, is full of questions about the animation process. Bucky’s dad is able to answer some of his questions, but Bucky promises Steve they’ll go to the library and get books about animation soon. 

Bucky’s ma is still all doting and glad to have him home, keeps bringing new bowls of popcorn which Steve accidentally finishes while he’s gaping at the screen, and ice for his arm, and the bottle of meds when Steve starts to untangle himself from Bucky to get them. And Bucky’s dad sits in his arm chair and watches them more than he watches the movie. 

Bucky’s just really glad to be home, to have all his sisters piled around and on top of him, to rest in the v of Steve’s legs like it’s the most normal thing in the world. And this is his new normal, Bucky realizes with a grin. 

Steve strokes the top of Bucky’s bad arm gently, just his knuckles and light pressure, sending a silent question along the bond. Bucky lets his head fall back against Steve’s shoulder, so he can twist and press a kiss to Steve’s jaw line. He spreads the bond wide and open between them, letting Steve feel how happy he is, how glad he is that Steve is here with him and with Bucky’s family. 

Steve blinks, this ridiculously bright smile stretching his face. Bubbles drift on a summer breeze, sunshine sparkles on water, and Bucky feels so, so warm. This is what he was missing, all those years

*

After dinner, Bucky’s ma and Bucky sit down to plan the dedication ceremony. Bucky had asked Steve about it, and Steve had just sort of shrugged and said he was okay with whatever, as long as it made Bucky and his ma happy. 

Steve’s really fucking great. 

And yeah, okay, maybe Bucky has a lot of ideas. And possibly a pinterest board. Or two. 

But he’s been waiting for this a long time. For so long the bond was just this source of pain and anxiety in his life. Not even just his life, really. It was hard for his whole family and his friends, but especially on his ma. They’d gotten through a lot of hospital stays and ambulance rides by dreaming about the future. It’s no surprise, then, that his ma knows all the things Bucky wants, so they’re able to put plans together pretty efficiently. 

“Steve,” Bucky’s ma asks, as she types out an email to their rabbi, “Is there anything special we can do for you? Any traditions that are important? People you want to come?”

Steve looks up from the book he’s been reading, that feeling like a stone dropping into still water rippling across the bond. “Oh, um, no I’m alright. I mean, my ma never had a soulmate - and uh.” Steve glances nervously at Bucky for a moment, but carries on when Bucky strokes Steve’s arm and the bond in tandem. “We didn’t think I had a soulmate, y’know. So, the whole dedication ceremony wasn’t ever real important to me.”

Bucky’s ma frowns a little and Bucky can’t help feeling a little sad too. Sort of because it’s disappointing that Steve isn’t as invested in this as Bucky is, but mostly because it’s just sad to think of Steve growing up without any of those traditions. Bucky can remember going to lots of dedication ceremonies, remembers being tiny and sitting on his ma’s lap, all bundled up, watching the red thread twine around his aunt’s and her soulmate’s hands and then looking down at his own hand, pudgy and a little blue with cold and imagining the lines of red wrapping around it. 

Bucky’s bubbe always makes honey cake and Papa Barnes gets drunk on bourbon and flirts outrageously with everyone. Aunty Marge tells the story of how soulmates got made and then cousin Jude argues with her and tells everybody about the latest science of bonds. Ma will make brisket and Dad will bake his triple chocolate cake. For Bucky, those things are as much a part of a dedication ceremony as the candles or the thread or the Search. He can’t imagine celebrating his and Steve’s new life without any one of those traditions. 

Steve must sense some of Bucky’s regret, because he takes his good hand and squeezes. “I’ll be happy no matter what.”

Bucky nods, feeling the truth of that statement, but can’t help feeling that the ceremony’s going to end up being all about him, with nothing to show that Steve is an equal member of this bond. 

“What about your team mates?” Bucky asks carefully, knowing how ambivalent Steve feels about the other Avengers. 

“Oh. Um, I guess I should invite them, huh? I mean, definitely Darcy.” It takes Bucky a minute to remember meeting Darcy, but he thinks that’s understandable since the whole encounter was overshadowed by meeting  _ Steve. _ “And it’d be nice if Clint and Natasha could come. I just - I don’t know about Stark.” Steve grimaces, kind of shaking his head. “He’d make it all about him.” 

Bucky licks his lips, thinking. He hadn’t liked Stark, not at all. The man pushed all of Steve’s buttons, going out of his way to make Steve feel uncomfortable in any given situation. But Steve is inevitably going to have to work with Stark in the future, and they need to be able to get along. Bucky doesn’t want Steve going out to save the world with a guy who’s that mean to him. 

“They’re your team,” Bucky says, meeting Steve’s eyes. There’s an ebb and flow of conversation along the bond, and Bucky thinks Steve understands his concerns. “And I know it’s all new, but maybe things will get better.”

“I guess.” Steve doesn’t look up from his book, shrugging one massive shoulder. A well of insecurity appears in the bond. Bucky so often forgets it’s there, because Steve is so sweet and loving and brave and wonderful. But Steve isn’t sure about a whole lot, and especially not about himself. Bucky gets up from the table he’s been sitting at with his ma and settles himself in Steve’s lap. It makes them both blush a little, ‘specially with Bucky’s ma sitting right there, even though she’s studiously ignoring them. But Steve sets his book down and wraps his arm around Bucky, pulling him a little closer.

“I want things to be good for you.” Bucky speaks quietly, knowing that Steve can hear him. “I want now to be good for you.”

“Now  _ is  _ good,” Steve insists.  

“I’m not enough.” Bucky meets Steve’s gaze, sees the confused hurt there. “I mean - you deserve friends and other things that make you happy. I want to be there for all of it, I want you to have everything you ever wanted.”

Steve’s been lonely for a long time Bucky thinks. A lot longer than since he woke up in this century, maybe his whole life. Bucky wants Steve to have so many people in his life, people who see him for who he really is, who care enough to look past Steve’s polite, mild-mannered exterior. 

“I’ll try,” Steve murmurs, and kisses him. 

*

They kinda topple through the door of Bucky’s bedroom, already kissing. Their conversation earlier had twined tighter and tighter in the bond, friction and heat building. Bucky could feel Steve’s eyes on him like a physical caress while he made plans with his ma. He’d been entirely too hard to get up and try and put an end to the planning session, so he just continued distractedly until his ma was called away to put Molly to bed. 

They’d managed to make it up the last flight of stairs without touching each other, which Bucky thinks is pretty damn impressive. And then Steve is pulling Bucky down on top of him on the bed, which is a pretty optimal position in Bucky’s book. Steve presses his forehead to Bucky’s, breathing heavily, which always makes Bucky feel a little smug. Not much can make Steve breathless, after all. 

“You make me so happy,” Steve whispers. Awe shimmers across the bond, like first light on new snow. “I can’t believe I get you.”

Which is is ridiculous, because Bucky’s nothing all that special. But maybe that’s the point, because Steve’s just Steve, just a guy. An amazing guy, sure, but just a guy all the same. 

“I love you,” Bucky blurts out without thinking and promptly panics. “I mean. Um.” But there’s no taking it back, not with the bond open and strong between them. Steve’s whole self - body and mind - has gone still, and then there’s the sense that he’s weighing a stone in his hand. Nonsensically and ridiculously, Bucky wonders if he’s going to throw at home. 

“Oh.” Steve whispers. “ _ Oh _ . I - I love you too?”

Bucky blinks, not quite sure he really heard what he thought he heard. A grin spreads across his face, uncontrollable and probably a little insane looking. “Really?”

“Yeah,” and Steve gives that adorable little smile, the one that belongs just to Bucky, shy and sweet and perfect. 

Bucky surges forward to kiss Steve, not sure how else to express how happy he is, how completely amazing this moment is and how glad he is that it’s with Steve. Bucky clambers up onto his knees, bracketing Steve’s hips with his thighs. For a minute, he just looks. There’s Steve all spread out on Bucky’s stupid Harry Potter sheets (which really need a wash), wearing a t-shirt and jeans, hair all mussed and smiling so hard his eyes are crinkling up in that way that Bucky loves so fucking much. 

Making out with Steve never seems to get any less thrilling. Steve’s big hands on Bucky’s hips and creeping up under his shirt and tracing the line of Bucky’s spine will probably always be the most amazing thing. But after that morning in the shower, there’s some new moves added to the repertoire of touches - Steve’s hands on his ass (after he double-checks it’s okay, because Steve is nothing if not a gentleman), and Bucky groping Steve’s strong thighs. He works his hand between the bed and tentatively grabs Steve’s ass and Steve lets out a happy sounding groan, so he squeezes again, a little harder this time. It’s more than a little awkward, since Bucky has to balance on his knees, his bad arm once again strapped to his chest by the sling. But it’s totally worth it to see how much Steve likes it. 

Bucky definitely did not like having his ass squeezed as much as Steve likes it. 

“C’mere,” Steve groans, pulling Bucky in. Bucky topples over, balance already unsteady, and his nose hits Steve’s jaw hard. Bucky lands all tangled up with no good way to get up, with one arm tucked into the sling and the other trapped under Steve’s body. He’s more than a little embarrassed, too.  He’d been making Steve feel good, doing something new and he hadn’t even gotten all weird about it. 

Steve starts to laugh, which makes Bucky want to sink into a deep dark hole. 

“Oh, no Bucky - I’m not - I’m just really happy. Sex is ridiculous sometimes, it never goes just right,” Steve says quickly, helping Bucky up with deft hands. They rearrange, so Steve is leaning against the headboard and Bucky is perched in his lap. Bucky glances up at Steve, examining him and the bond carefully. But Steve is telling the truth, all he feels is happiness and humor, but not at Bucky’s sake. “And really, we should have thought that out better. Was my fault, forgot about your arm.”

Bucky grins, a little shy. It was pretty funny. They probably looked more than a little absurd, all tangled up like that. But Steve’s words also strike up a new worry, one Bucky’s not sure how to address. 

Steve must sense that, ‘cause he sort of coaxes Bucky along the bond. 

“Um, I don’t want to have sex. Right now, I mean. I actually…” Bucky trails off, aware of how incredibly sappy and cliched his request is. But Steve just keeps looking at him, all gentle and welcoming. “I thought maybe we could wait? Um, until after the ceremony. It’s silly, I know.”

“It’s not silly,” Steve interjects, and the bond is soft and fuzzy between them,  a feeling that Bucky is quickly learning to identify as fondness. “It’s your first time, that’s a big deal. I want it to be perfect for you.”

Bucky blushes and ducks his face into Steve’s neck, feeling too happy and relieved for words. How is Steve this perfect? 

“We should talk about it beforehand, anyway,” Steve continues, now petting Bucky’s back as he speaks. “So we’re on the same page.”

“Okay,” Bucky agrees, though the prospect sounds a little excruciatingly awkward. 

“It’s good. Fun,” Steve reassures, pressing a kiss to the tip of Bucky’s ear. “And it means we’ll have a better time when we actually do it.”

“Yeah, alright,” Bucky mutters, not totally convinced. 

“So,” Steve says carefully. Bucky feels a little better, feeling the flush of heat on Steve’s cheeks and hearing the hint of discomfort in his voice. “I guess, first things first. When you say  _ sex _ , do you mean anal sex?”

Oh god, this is going to be worse than he thought. 

“Um, I guess. I mean, that’s what two guys do, right?” Bucky fidgets a little, wishing he wasn’t so completely inexperienced. He doesn’t even really talk about sex with his friends and when he does, it’s with Imani, who’s primarily into other women. 

Steve shakes his head and settles back against the headboard. Bucky sighs and sits back a little, no longer hiding in Steve’s neck. “Not all guys,” Steve says. He doesn’t sound impatient or upset that Bucky doesn’t know this. In fact, he’s happy and a little turned on. Steve really  _ does _ like talking about this. The discovery makes it a little easier to attempt the conversation. “Anal sex isn’t for everyone and it’s definitely not a spur of the moment kind of thing.”

Bucky knows that, vaguely. There’s prep to be done and obviously hygiene is a concern, but it’s not like that part is ever a part of the porn he’s watched. He’s read a little about it, but he’d never been really clear if it was something he definitely, 100% wanted to do. 

“We don’t have to do it,” Steve says, meeting Bucky’s gaze firmly. 

“I know.” And Bucky does. He’s completely positive that Steve would never so much as ask him to do something Bucky didn’t really want to do. Bucky bites his lip and peeks up shyly at Steve, gauging if he really wants to ask his question. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah.” A pink flush spreads across Steve’s cheeks and the bridge of his nose, but he doesn’t look away and there’s no embarrassment in the bond when he says, “I like it a lot. But I wouldn’t like it if you weren’t having fun too.”

“I wanna try it,” Bucky admits, because he does. He wants to try everything with Steve, can’t imagine that there’s anything they could do together that wouldn’t feel good. And if this is something that Steve likes, well. That’s all the more reason to try it, isn’t it? 

“I’d like that,” Steve murmurs, smiling at him. 

“Do, um.” Bucky stops and then decides if he can’t even say the words, he really shouldn’t be doing the thing. “Do you like to top or bottom?”

Steve grins, a slight embarrassed curve to the tilt of his lips and the twist of the bond. “I like it both ways. But I think for our first time, I should probably bottom.”

Bucky blinks, a little surprised, though he can’t really say why. Maybe he just assumed that Steve always topped, ‘cause he was so big and strong. But Bucky knew better than that. You couldn’t tell anything about a person’s sexuality from the way they looked, let alone the specific things they liked in bed. 

“That way you don’t have to worry about the prep or anything, not this time around. I can teach you another time. You should know, even if you never want to bottom.”

“You really want me to…” Bucky trails off, staring at Steve. The truth of Steve’s suggestion is settling, taking root deep in Bucky’s belly and stirring a powerful wave of  _ want.  _

Steve rubs a thumb over Bucky’s cheek and cups his jaw, a fond, happy smile on his face. “I just want to be close to you, whatever way that looks.”

There’s no other way to respond to that than kissing Steve. Bucky uses every trick he’s learned from Steve, and a couple he’s figured out for himself, ‘cause Steve likes different things than Bucky. He bites at Steve’s lips and sucks at Steve’s earlobe - Bucky hates that, but Steve always lets out these breathy little sighs when Bucky does it to him. He uses just a little bit of tongue in Steve’s mouth, but licks over the places he bites on Steve’s neck. Steve’s hands are spasming on Bucky’s hips, like he’s trying not to grab too hard. Abruptly, Bucky remembers all the wet, naked skin from that morning and decides they really need to be wearing less clothes. 

He pulls back, looking down so he can tug Steve’s t-shirt up. But instead, his gaze gets a little stuck on where Steve is tenting his jeans obscenely. Bucky’s mouth goes dry. Maybe - maybe he wants to try putting his mouth  _ there _ . Putting his mouth other places on Steve has been pretty universally good. Steve seemed to like it, when he’d sucked Bucky off. He’d seemed to like it a  _ lot _ . 

Maybe Bucky hadn’t felt ready this morning, but now he’s curious and he wants to try and he is not going to think about it any more than that. 

“Um. Can I try,” Bucky licks his lips and glances down at Steve’s lap, trying to figure out how to ask if he can give Steve a blow job, and is surprised by a sudden rush of lust, like leaning to close to a fire and feeling the dry heat on your cheeks. Bucky glances back up. Steve’s eyes have gone wide and he’s looking at Bucky very intently. It sends confidence spiralling through Bucky and he starts tugging at Steve’s t-shirt a little more insistently. 

Steve lifts his arms helpfully, letting Bucky coax the t-shirt over his head, and then they’re kissing again. But kissing really isn’t any help in getting Steve out of his pants, which Bucky really wants to do. He fumbles with Steve’s button, but it’s all backwards and upside down and Steve keeps distracting him with his lips and his tongue and his ridiculous face. Instead, Bucky just ends up accidentally brushing his hand against Steve’s dick. 

It really is by accident. 

He swears. 

Or. 

At least, the first time was. But Steve keeps voicing these tiny little moans and they sound really good and every time Bucky touches Steve a shock of echoed pleasure sparks across the bond and it’s really distracting. So his touches get a little more purposeful and Steve starts pushing Bucky’s t-shirt up, sucking on Bucky’s collarbone as he does. 

Getting undressed is really hard when they don’t want to stop touching for even a second. And then Steve can’t get Bucky shirt off because of the stupid sling and all in all it makes more sense to stop for a minute and stand up and get undressed properly. Bucky hesitates once his jeans hit the floor. It’s not that his boxers are actually doing much to hide his nudity, not with how hard he is, but it feels weird to just strip nude. Steve has stopped at his boxers too and is watching Bucky with careful, patient eyes. 

The bond is still, like a pond on windless day, and that makes it okay to pull his boxers off. Heat flares in Steve’s stomach, that inexplicably powerful but undeniable attraction spilling across and lighting Bucky up from the inside out. 

“I love you.” Steve says and he’s meeting Bucky’s eyes, not looking at his body, and he radiates sincerity and yes, love, which feels like every good thing Bucky has ever felt, and mostly like the bond between them has turned from a rope into an expanse of vines. They’re changing and growing, and more and more are appearing every moment, tying Bucky to this man who loves him. This man that he loves. 

“I love you too.” It’s no less thrilling to hear the words from his own mouth and know their truth than to hear them from Steve. So many firsts today, and Bucky’s so glad he gets to share them with Steve. 

Feeling emboldened by the admissions and also rather silly, standing there naked and telling Steve he’s in love with him while Steve’s still wearing his boxers. So without overthinking it, Bucky reaches out and plucks at the elastic of Steve’s shorts. He glances up for permission and Steve nods, giving him that squinty-eyed smile, so Bucky starts tugging them down. 

Skin and hair are revealed, this darkening trail of hair towards Steve’s pubes and Bucky is not prepared for how hot the sight is. He realizes he’s holding his breath as he pulls the cloth of Steve’s boxers over his hard dick. Bucky vaguely remembers thinking that Steve probably had a porn dick, that first full day, when they went out on Steve’s motorcycle. Bucky is not disappointed. 

Of course, most porn dicks aren’t attached to Steve, who’s easily one of the most attractive men Bucky has laid eyes on and is his soulmate to boot.  Bucky can’t immediately tell by looking that Steve’s not cut and there are too many other areas of interest to spend too long studying that one part. Bucky’s never seen another person’s dick in real life before, not really. Not that Paul and he haven’t seen each other naked from time to time, but obviously they don’t spend a lot of time staring at each other’s junk. Plus, they’re not typically hard when that happens. 

Steve’s dick curves gently up, a little more than Bucky’s does. It’s bigger too, but Bucky already knew that. It’s thick and red and the head is peeking out from Steve’s foreskin, and Steve’s balls hang heavy behind it and  _ wow _ , Bucky is really fucking attracted to Steve. Because, let’s be real, it’s not like dicks are the most attractive thing all on their own. They’re pretty weird looking, actually. But Steve’s dick is really sexy and kind of weirdly pretty, which isn’t a thought Bucky ever thought he’d have.

Bucky really wants to touch, but he’s not sure he wants go straight for that, feeling just a little overwhelmed by the prospect. So instead, he pushes up into Steve’s space and Steve pulls him close and Bucky relishes in feeling their naked bodies pressed up together, no barriers between them for the first time. The bond sings with pleasure and the tight gripping requirement for closeness that has existed in it since Steve rescued Bucky seems to ease, just a little. Steve walks backwards towards the bed, bringing Bucky along with him, but carefully, minding Bucky’s broken arm the whole time. 

Even when Steve sits back onto the bed and pulls Bucky after him, Steve takes most of Bucky’s weight. The pace has slowed, leaving the arousal between them thick and heady, but not frenzied. Steve turns them so Bucky is on his back, which makes more sense since it gives Bucky the use of at least one of his arms. And then Steve rolls his hips, pressing their naked dicks together and making pleasure shoot through Bucky like fireworks. 

“Steve,” he gasps, already feeling too close to the edge. Steve groans a little, and the motion of his hips speeds up but then, with tangible effort, Steve slows. 

“I’m sorry, is this okay?”

Bucky nods frantically, because it really, really is, and he doesn’t want Steve thinking he’s done anything wrong. But Bucky’s inexperienced and everything with Steve is  _ so  _ good and  _ so  _ much, doubled and echoed across the bond. 

Bucky blushes, but tells Steve exactly what he’s thinking, because he knows Steve likes that. “I’m gonna come too soon. I don’t want to come yet.”

“Okay,” Steve mumbles and pulls away, which isn’t really what Bucky wanted either. Steve rolls onto his side, pillowing his head on Bucky’s good shoulder and wrapping his arm around Bucky. It’s weird, Steve’s hard dick pressing against Bucky’s hip despite the nonsexual position. They often sleep like this and it feels a little incongruous to be all naked and turned on while they cuddle. It’s not  _ bad _ , of course, ‘cause cuddling is never bad and being naked and turned on is pretty much always a good thing. At least, it is for Bucky. 

Bucky bites his lips and glances down the length of Steve’s body. “Can I touch you?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. 

It’s awkward, because Bucky has to stay mostly on his back, not wanting to put his bad arm under him, but he runs a hand down Steve’s side, tracing the curve of muscle and the translucent hair. Steve closes his eyes and sighs, sounding and feeling blissed out, which is a feeling like a perfectly cloudless sky or diving into a pool on a blistering day. Bucky trails his fingers over Steve’s hip and slides his hand between them. 

There’s nothing rushed about it, so Bucky takes his time, matching what he’d felt in this unexplored area to what he can now see. Maybe it’s weird, just to brush his fingers over Steve’s dick, to trace the line where Steve’s leg meets the rest of his body, to weigh Steve’s balls in his hand. It’s definitely not what Bucky had ever imagined doing, and he thinks it’s probably a huge tease to Steve. But Steve doesn’t stop him, just lets the little shocks of pleasure burst through him and down the bond to Bucky while Bucky explores. He repeats some of the things that he’d done in the shower - rubbing Steve’s foreskin between his fingers, pulling it back so he rub his thumb over the head of Steve’s dick. 

Steve gasps and his hips hitch with every touch of Bucky’s hand and it makes Bucky feel so good to know that he’s the one making Steve feel that way. And Steve looks amazing, a pink flush travelling down his chest and his eyes half closed. Bucky feels his breath coming a little quicker and arousal pooling hot and urgent in his belly just looking at Steve. 

“I wanna try,” Bucky starts, but has to pause for a moment because he accidentally squeezes Steve’s balls a little when he starts to talk, and it makes Steve arch and moan in a really distracting way. “I wanna try - uh, sucking you. Can I?”

Steve nods quickly, which makes Bucky feel a little better about his overly enthusiastic response to Steve’s offer that morning. “Yes, please.”

Bucky starts to sit up, but he’s not exactly sure what position is going to work for this, given his arm. It’s not like he can hold himself over Steve or anything. “Um, how…” he trails off, waving his splinted arm in an illustrative manner. Steve blinks and frowns thoughtfully, gears ticking softly in the bond. 

“Maybe you should be on the floor?” Steve suggests, sitting up, which effectively pulls Bucky’s hand away from Steve’s dick. “We can put a pillow down and I can sit at the edge of the bed?”

Bucky considers the angles of that and nods. It’s odd, taking a break from the building pleasure to do something so mechanical and ordinary as figuring out positioning, but Bucky kind of likes it. He likes that they talk about these things, that Steve doesn’t leave him to guess what to do or how to do it. It makes Bucky feel a lot more confident trying things. Still, he can’t help but feel a little self conscious and embarrassed, kneeling on the ground between Steve’s naked thighs, eye level with his dick. 

“Can you tell me, um, like you did this morning? What feels good and stuff,” Bucky mumbles, staring at Steve’s dick and feeling completely out of his depth. 

Steve nods and strokes a hand through Bucky’s hair. “Yeah, but it’s pretty much all gonna feel good. Just don’t bite me.” Steve grins, joking, but Bucky’s honestly a little worried about that. What is he supposed to do with his teeth? It’s not like he can make them disappear. 

But he wants to make Steve feel good and he’s really curious about what it’s going to feel like, from this end. Shyly, he presses a kiss to the head. He feels more than a little ridiculous, but Steve sighs and leans back on one arm, the other hand still in Bucky’s hair. Bucky sticks to kissing for a bit - just soft, close-mouthed kisses to different parts of Steve’s dick. Steve sighs happily each time and Bucky’s nerves start to untangle a little as he gets used to being this close to Steve’s dick. 

He’d worried about the smell, before, or things not being clean enough, but Steve just smells like skin. Maybe a little musty, but not that bad. Bucky was worried about the taste, too, but he can’t really tell about that with just his little kisses. Cautiously, Bucky opens his mouth, makes the kisses a little wetter, adds a little sucking. Steve’s dick doesn’t taste  _ great _ , but it’s not bad either. Just sort of like making out with Steve right after he’s gotten back from a run. A little sweaty and not the cleanest, but not gross or anything. 

“That feels good,” Steve sighs, as if Bucky couldn’t tell from the happy humming of the bond. But he did ask Steve to tell him what felt good and it’s nice to hear. Feeling a little braver for the praise, Bucky tentatively sucks the head of Steve’s dick into his mouth. It feels really weird - the weight and heat of it on his tongue, the shape of it unfamiliar. For a minute, Bucky just sits there holding it in his mouth, feeling it out. Then he sucks a little harder and Steve groans, his fingers tangling in Bucky’s hair. 

Bucky pulls off and starts to use his tongue, knowing how much Steve likes that other places. And yeah, Steve starts emitting a pretty constant stream of happy, turned on noises, which only serve to egg Bucky on. So he licks a little more firmly, works his tongue all the way down to the base of Steve’s dick. 

Steve’s strong thighs squeeze Bucky’s shoulders gently and Bucky feels a bit like he’s been folded up into Steve - a letter in an envelope, protected and directed. Bucky slides back up to the top of Steve’s dick and sucks a little more of it into his mouth. He can’t get very far without his jaw cramping uncomfortably and starting to feel like he might gag, which is a little disappointing. Porn stars always make it look so easy to put a whole dick in their mouth. But Steve hadn’t deep throated Bucky or anything - instead, he’d used his hand on the part that wasn’t in his mouth. So Bucky brings his hand, which had been braced on Steve’s thigh, into the mix, touching and squeezing. 

“You can -” Steve’s breath hitches as Bucky brings his hand back to Steve’s balls, and Bucky tucks that little factoid away for another time. “Pull the foreskin down? Just a bit, when you - yeah, shit yeah, Bucky, just like that.”

Curious, Bucky runs his tongue along the edge of the skin he’d gently rolled down to completely expose the head of Steve’s dick. Steve  _ whines _ , which might be the hottest noise Bucky has ever heard, so Bucky does it again. 

“Buck,” Steve sighs and Bucky shudders. Nobody’s ever shortened his name like that and it does funny things to his insides. 

Steve lets him spend a long time just playing and exploring, trying things out and pulling back when his jaw gets tired or his eyes start to water from the strange pressure of Steve’s dick in his mouth. Sometimes Steve lets out little  _ yeahs  _ or  _ do that agains _ , but mostly he just sighs and moans and plays with Bucky’s hair. 

But Bucky’s starting to wonder how he’s supposed to get Steve off. Not that he isn’t happy to keep playing, it’s just his jaw  _ is  _ starting to get a little tired and his own erection is throbbing almost painfully from how turned on he is. But he’s not sure how to ask that without sounding like he’s just trying to get out of it. Steve’s hand lands on the back of Bucky’s head and tugs gently. 

“What’s a matter?” Steve’s voice is muddled and relaxed, which makes arousal coil deep inside. 

“Um, nothing. I just - I want to get you off? Is - how should - “ Bucky stops, blushing, feeling like he’s stepped out of the moment, made things awkward when everything was feeling so good. 

“Oh,” Steve says, and he smiles, feeling happy and pleased and Bucky relaxes a little. “I’d need you to do just one thing for a while,” he explains. “If you were blowing me - it would just need to be one thing.” 

Bucky can’t get over how relaxed and loose Steve sounds, which distracts him from the actual content of his words for a moment. Refocusing himself, Bucky admits, “My jaw is kind of sore.”

“Yeah, that happens.” Steve is still grinning easily, so Bucky lets his worry and embarrassment fall away. “Come back up here,” Steve suggests. Bucky frowns, confused, but does as Steve asks. He can’t keep sucking Steve off from up here. Steve coaxes them back onto the bed, rolling them again so that Bucky is leaning against the pillows. 

“Steve, what?” Bucky asks, not sure about Steve’s plans and feeling a little nervous for it. 

“Do you have any lube?” Steve asks instead of answering. Bucky probes the bond carefully, but Steve is just feeling happy and playful, so he decides to just go with it. He trusts Steve. He trusts Steve a lot, and he knows that Steve just wants to make them feel good. Bucky nods, gestures to his bedside table, where there’s a half used bottle of lube that Bucky uses for jacking off. Steve fumbles for it, and Bucky gets to watch the muscles in Steve’s back and shoulder flex, which is a pretty good trade off for Steve not being pressed up against him. But Steve returns pretty quickly, pouring a generous amount of lube into one hand. He settles himself between Bucky’s legs and takes both their dicks in hand and  _ fuck  _ that feels good. It’s not something Bucky’s ever imagined doing before, but the slide of Steve’s hand and the hot length of his dick is really, really good. 

Bucky moans, hips rolling into the contact. And Steve is kissing Bucky’s neck, nibbling at all the spots that make Bucky let out embarrassing little whimpering noises, sucking a mark onto Bucky’s collarbone, sucking at his nipples. So it’s no surprise that it’s not long before Bucky is gasping out a warning and coming, hard. Steve follows a few moments after him. 

They fall asleep pressed together, all naked and sticky and gross and Bucky will definitely regret it in the morning, but it’s Steve. It’s Steve and him and even the grossest, most disgusting thing would be okay if they’re together. 


	11. the only fixer upper fixer that can fix a fixer upper is true love

The days until the ceremony pass quickly and slowly all at once. Bucky’s friends come to visit a couple times, and on Tuesday Bucky has to get a cast for his arm. There’s lots of little things to do to get ready for the dedication ceremony. There are errands to run and shopping to do, invitations to send and gifts to purchase. A lot of that Bucky and Steve don’t do. 

The press has gotten truly out of control since Bucky’s kidnapping, and they can’t go anywhere in New York without getting mobbed. Plus, Steve gets really nervous about Bucky being out of the house. That’s something they’ll need to work on, ‘cause there’s no way Bucky is staying in the house the rest of his life, but he understands why Steve’s nervous. Now’s not the time to work on it, not with the bond still so twisted up and demanding. 

It kind of grates at Bucky, though, not to be able to go out and pick things out for himself. His ma and Imani end up doing a lot of it, and he trusts them. But still, he can’t help but be a little disappointed. They do get to go out and pick their clothes for the ceremony, which ends up being kind of amazing. Stark sends a car, having already gotten their invitations, and they end up not at 5th Avenue, which is where Bucky imagines people like Stark shop, but at this tiny place in Chinatown. 

The store itself is on the third floor of this run down looking building, on top of a restaurant and mostly consists of a single room, which is stacked with fabric of all sorts and all colors. They’re greeted by an old man and his granddaughter, who translates for him and rolls her eyes a lot. It’s a bit of a whirlwind from the moment they step in to the moment they step out, with the promise that their clothes will be delivered in two days time. 

“That was nice of Stark,” Bucky says carefully on the car ride back. Steve nods, a cautious sort of hope dawning inside him, though Steve is doing his best to keep it pressed down. “He definitely has boundary issues,” Bucky adds and smiles when Steve snorts. “But it seems like he cares.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, brain ticking away thoughtfully. Bucky takes his hand and squeezes, not afraid to do it strongly, knowing that Steve likes it that way.

*

Bucky’s bubbe and zayde arrive on Thursday, his gran and papa on Friday. 

Steve gets along with them weirdly well. 

Well. 

It’s weird until Bucky remembers that they’re a lot closer to being contemporaries of Steve than Bucky, his friends, or his parents. Which honestly, makes him feel a little uncomfortable for a couple hours. But Steve keeps turning to him for reassurance, or to explain things he doesn’t understand. And it’s nice, to watch Steve settle in and get comfortable with Bucky’s family. It’s a little thrilling how much more quickly it happens than when Steve met Bucky’s ma and dad. 

The best part of it is just having Bucky’s whole family together, his friends dropping in all the time after running errands for Steve and Bucky. It’s just all his favorite people in once place, and Bucky has never felt so warm and happy in his entire life. 

*

The day dawns bright and sunny, not a cloud in the sky. 

Bucky’s ma makes challa french toast for breakfast, making enough that Steve can fill up on it and not need to eat as much later, when he’ll be too self-conscious around people to eat properly. While Bucky hates that Steve feels that way, it makes him happy that his ma knows that about Steve and plans for it. 

After breakfast, Bucky’s bubbe and dad take over the kitchen. Ma’s brisket had been prepared the day before and, as is traditional, people are bringing their favorite family recipes to share. Becca’s tasked with occupying the girls, leaving Steve and Bucky time to get ready together in quiet. 

They shower separately, but don the traditional clothes together. They’d gone with simple linen cloth - the loose pants and the shirt with the sleeves that end right above their marks, both in a light gray color. 

The bond vibrates between them and they can’t stop touching each other, little brushes to each other’s marks, hands tangling together. They’re supposed to wait until a half hour after the ceremony’s starting time. It’s supposed to be a time of quiet contemplation and meditation. 

They make out on Bucky’s bed instead, so that when Bucky’s ma comes to get them they have to spend a couple minutes  _ calming down _ before they’re decent to go out, given the soft fabric they’re dressed in. Bucky’s ma eyes them knowingly when they do finally join her, which makes Bucky want to go back into the bedroom and possibly never come out ever again.

But Steve is anxious and restless beside him, and every one of Bucky’s favorite people are waiting for them, waiting to celebrate this bond that Bucky has been waiting for his entire life. So he takes Steve’s hand and walks down the stairs, feeling lighter than air. 

“I love you,” he tells Steve before they step into the living room. And Steve stares at him like Bucky’s the best thing that has ever happened to him and yeah, Bucky knows that feeling. 

“I love you too.” 

*

The ceremony starts with the Search. Bucky is the younger of the two, so Papa Barnes ties a soft blindfold around Bucky’s eyes and then there’s loud chatter and lots of yelled advice intended to be as distracting as possible. The Search is supposed to replicate their lives before finding each other, lost without each other. 

But it’s not the same at all. 

Bucky can  _ feel  _ Steve on the other side of the bond, solid and real and so, so warm. Bucky will never be alone and cold in the dark ever again. The bond is lit up like a beacon and Bucky winds his way between people confidently, until he walks right into Steve’s chest, good arm reaching out. They hug, Steve’s arms strong and solid around Bucky’s body and then they’re kissing, Bucky’s eyes still covered by the blindfold. 

There are impressed murmurs around them.

“Less than one minute!” Becca is crowing. “That’s a new family record!” 

Bucky grins, proud and pleased. 

“That’s my boy!” Papa Barnes cheers, coming to fetch them and guide them over to the front of the room, where the candles and thread lie in wait so they can finish the ceremony. Steve guides Bucky, who won’t be allowed to take the blindfold off until Steve lights the candles, through the crowd of people with a gentle hand around his shoulders. Bucky can’t stop smiling. 

Rabbi Lieberman is waiting for them. Steve’s met him once before, when they were running through the details of the ceremony, and Bucky can hear them shaking hands and saying hello. Bucky and his family have never been particularly religious or spent very much time at temple, but his ma always likes to go for the high holidays. When Bucky was younger, before they moved to Arizona, he’d briefly attended Hebrew School at the Crown Heights Synagogue, where Rabbi Lieberman leads the congregation. Rabbi Lieberman puts a solid hand on Bucky’s shoulder. 

“Mazel tov, Bucky. This is truly a thing to celebrate.” 

Bucky smiles even wider, nodding. There’s a moment of restless quiet where Bucky can hear the silver candlesticks, that have been in his family forever, being set up on the table. 

The room goes oddly still as Bucky’s bubbe comes up. She places her hands on Bucky’s cheeks. They smell sweet, like honey, and he relishes in the touch while she blesses him as he starts this new chapter in his life. 

Steve doesn’t have any family to offer the blessings to him, though they’re not an aspect of Catholic ceremonies as far as Bucky knows. Still, it hurt Bucky to think of Steve standing there while Bucky was blessed by his family and having no one. So they’d decided that Bucky’s gran would offer the prayer to Steve instead. She’d needed to be coached on the Hebrew words, but she’s glad for the chance to participate, and to do something kind for Steve. 

Bucky can picture her tiny frame in front of Steve, Steve probably stooped so that she can reach his face. Her voice entwines with Bucky’s bubbe’s, and the bond sings with joy. There has never been a moment more perfect than this one, Bucky is sure. 

His grandmothers finish the prayers and step away, back to the rest of Bucky’s family. Steve fumbles with the candles and matches while Rabbi Lieberman blesses them, calling light into a life that was once dark. Bucky hears the matches strike, can just barely feel the warmth of the candles as they’re lit. And then Steve’s strong hands are touching Bucky’s face, tracing the blindfold to the knot at the back of Bucky’s head and untying it deftly. 

Steve’s face is enraptured as the fabric falls from Bucky’s face, his mouth hanging open a little stupidly and a red mark from Gran’s lipstick on his cheek. And Bucky is so overwhelmingly happy. 

Rabbi Lieberman steps away now, and Bucky’s dad joins them at the front of the room, standing in front of the red candles. This isn’t exactly traditional - usually the Rabbi or Preacher or whoever does the binding, but in recent years it’s become more common to have a family member do it. 

“Most of you know that we’ve been waiting for this day a really long time,” Bucky’s dad says. “Though, I guess most people would say they’ve been waiting, when their child is born with a mark. It was different for Bucky, of course. His childhood was cold and lonely, a lot of the time, though Freddie and I always did our best to make it happy for him, despite his limitations. 

“We were lucky, because Bucky has always been cheerful and easy going. He never complained about anything, not even on the coldest days. He’s always been such a bright spot in our lives.” Bucky blushes, glancing down at his bare feet. Steve takes his hand and squeezes, and Bucky can feel Steve’s agreement with his dad, this appraisal of Bucky as a person that leaves him shaking and flattered. 

“And we were so glad when he met Steve, who is everything that Bucky deserves. They truly are made for each other. This has been a bond a long time in the making and you can all see the strength of it, I’m sure. This is a wonderful new chapter in both Steve and Bucky’s lives, and I’m so glad we’re all gathered here to celebrate it together!

“I won’t drag on - I’m sure everyone is excited to get to the food and the dancing.”

Steve does that little panicky thing he always does when dancing was mentioned during the planning stage and it makes Bucky grin and elbow him, though he sends a little reassuring caress across the bond, too.  _ We can do anything _ , it says. Steve blinks at him, this astonished pleasure playing across the bond, like the first drops of a summer rain. 

“Alright, boys.” It makes Bucky stupidly happy that his dad calls Steve  _ boy  _ right alongside him, the way he’s always called Bucky’s sisters  _ girls _ , like they all belong together. “Hold out your right hands. Now traditionally, this is done with left hands, as I’m sure you’re all aware. But Bucky’s left is obviously out of commission.” There’s a friendly chuckle around the room, though Bucky can hardly focus on it. 

How long has he been waiting to lay his hand in someone else’s and have them bound together? And that it’s Steve - who is kind and brave, but also shy and playful, and who takes such care with every part of Bucky - makes it a thousand times better than he could have ever imagined. Plus, once the string has been wound around their hands, after they’ve celebrated with Bucky’s family, they’re going to go upstairs and have sex. Steve is going to let Bucky fuck him. 

It’s going to be  _ incredible. _

As if sensing where Bucky’s thoughts have gone - and he actually, probably has - Steve grins, sweeps in for a little kiss. There’s a playful catcall from Paul and Steve blushes, pulling back. But his smile stays - he doesn’t get stiff, he doesn’t withdraw. He stays here, with Bucky, not hiding from anyone at all. 

Bucky thinks his dad is saying the traditional words, but he can’t really hear anything over the rush of excitement in his head. Steve has waited for Bucky to be ready, they’ve laid out careful plans, just like they did for this ceremony. Everything is coming together - more than anything, the two of them. They’re coming together in all the ways people can. Steve is his soulmate and his friend and his boyfriend and his  _ lover _ , and Bucky couldn’t possibly be happier. 

The red thread winds around their clasped hands and the bond widens and stretches and turns, like a happy cat getting comfortable in its person’s lap. The thread bites into their skin, just a little, just enough to leave a line after it’s been unwound.

Their hands bound together, Bucky reaches up and plants a kiss on Steve’s lips. It’s  _ not  _ a little kiss - he does all the things Steve has taught him until Steve pulls back panting. Steve presses their foreheads together and whispers, “You’re a menace.”

“But you love me anyway,” Bucky says confidently. Happiness bubbles between them. This is what joy feels like, Bucky thinks, pure and unadulterated. 

*

There are hours of eating and drinking and dancing, a whirlwind of familiar faces and favorite songs and laughter. Steve is close through all of it and even agrees to one dance, where he only steps on Bucky’s toes three times. 

There are introductions to be made and congratulations to be shared. There are hugs and kisses and handshakes. And Bucky is not even a little bit cold. Warmth seeps into every moment of the day and it’s hard to remember that there was time when he didn’t know what warmth felt like. 

As the sun sets, Steve and Bucky are herded up the stairs with winks and nudges and insinuations and Bucky doesn’t even care that everyone knows he and Steve are going to have sex. Because Bucky’s finally ready and he gets to share it with Steve who is phenomenal and also ridiculously attractive. Bucky is really not ashamed of having sex with Steve. 

Of course, there’s a pause in the momentum building while Steve takes his amazon package and a towel into the bathroom and tells Bucky’s he’s going to be a while. He leaves with a truly filthy kiss that really shouldn’t feel good, but completely  _ does _ , because that’s how most sexy things seem to work. 

Bucky fusses around the room for a while, tugging the blankets off the bed and making the bed up with clean sheets. He sets lube and condoms on the bedside table, though they hadn’t really talked about whether they were going to use a condom. It’s polite to have the option anyway, and Bucky had gone out and got them special, even before he was kidnapped and had no idea when he would want to have sex. 

But then there’s not much to do. Bucky spends a lot of time staring at the clock, wondering exactly how long Steve is going to be. He plays candy crush on his phone until he gets stuck on a level and eventually gives up and gets out his copy of the first Harry Potter and settles down to read. It’s a little sad that it’s taking this long, Bucky thinks, because he was so ready to  _ go _ . But at the same time, it’s kind sexy and really sweet, knowing Steve is taking the time to get ready. Bucky had done some reading up and the process itself is  _ not  _ sexy, but Steve is willing to do it so they can have sex and that really is hot. 

It’s been about a half an hour when the door opens and Steve slips in. He’s wearing clean boxers and a t-shirt that was slightly too big on Bucky so it had become Steve’s. His hair is wet, but combed neatly, and he’s all pink and shiny from the warmth of the shower.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Bucky returns, feeling a dopey grin pull at his cheeks. He’s so ready for this. Steve hangs up his towel and puts his carefully folded ceremonial clothes on top of Bucky’s dresser before he strides over. There’s a certain amount of intent in Steve’s body, which makes arousal coil low and heavy in Bucky’s belly. Bucky sits up to meet Steve, tilting his chin for a kiss. Steve immediately obliges, even as he presses Bucky’s body back into the pillows. Steve kneels and hovers over him, smiling like a loon. 

“I’m really excited,” Steve murmurs and the truth of that is echoed over the bond. There is anticipation building between them, only encouraged by the dual source. Bucky smiles, a little shy in the face of Steve’s enthusiasm, a little worried that things won’t be as good as they’re both expecting. He glances away.

“Hey,” Steve whispers, cupping Bucky’s cheek and turning Bucky’s face to look at Steve. “It’s going to be great.”

“What if I fuck it up?” Bucky asks. Steve’s eyes are so blue and so earnest and so kind, it’s impossible to not want to lay himself bare to him. Steve already knows - Steve has access to every nook and cranny of Bucky’s soul and if they’re still getting to know each other, than that’s all the more reason to be honest. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“First times are always a little shitty.” Steve sits back, settling his weight on Bucky’s thighs. “But they’re also fun. We’re still learning about each other, it doesn’t matter if you’ve been with other people or not. Everybody is different. And I like learning about you.” Steve sweeps a thumb down to line of Bucky’s hip and Bucky shivers. “I wanna keep learning about you forever.”

Sunlight bursts across the bond, bright and blinding and so warm. 

“Yeah. I want that too,” Bucky agrees. Steve smiles and leans down to kiss him again. The making out, at least, is familiar and thrilling and makes Bucky forget his worries about the actual sex. Here he knows exactly what to do to get Steve going. He’s figured out how to use his tongue and when to use his teeth, and there’s an easy sort of confidence in this part of it. 

“Can we get you undressed?” Steve asks, one hand shoved up Bucky’s shirt and playing with his nipple. Bucky huffs a laugh and nods, feeling ridiculously fond and just all gooey inside, like melted chocolate and slightly charred marshmallow. Steve starts tugging off the linen shirt, both of them once again forgetting about the cast. 

Bucky makes a noise of discontent when he inevitably gets a little tangled up and they have to backtrack to get the sleeve over the bulky cast. Finally, Steve manages to coax the shirt over Bucky’s cast and head, mussing his hair and pressing kisses to Bucky’s neck as he goes. Bucky’s pants take more maneuvering but they eventually get settled back on the bed, Steve kissing down Bucky’s body. 

Then, unexpectedly, Steve pauses and pulls back. He picks up Bucky’s good hand and pulls it closer to him, flipping it over to reveal the mark and then -  _ and then  _ Steve puts his mouth on the mark and  _ sucks _ and sensation bursts through Bucky, an intense pleasure and then it feels like Steve is inside him and he’s inside Steve and Bucky has never felt anything like it. Steve pulls back, panting, pupils blown wide. They gape at each other a little, both of them totally unprepared. 

“Your - your wrist, let me -” Bucky says urgently, reaching for Steve with both hands. Steve sits up and holds out his wrist. Bucky cups Steve’s hand in his, runs a thumb over the familiar texture of the mark. It’s a deeper purple than normal, like Steve’s was the mark just sucked. Bucky draws it towards his mouth, aware of Steve watching him with careful, wondering eyes. 

An echoed version of what he just felt bounces across the bond as Bucky sweeps his tongue over it. Knowing how Steve likes when Bucky uses his teeth on his throat, Bucky scrapes them over the edge of the mark. Steve hisses and jerks, a stab of pleasure shooting through both of them. Taking the skin in his mouth, Bucky sucks intently, letting his eyes close. 

“Bucky,” Steve moans. “Fuck, Bucky, that feels so -  _ god,” _ Steve gasps as Bucky pulls back and licks over the slightly raised skin. And then Steve is surging forward and taking Bucky’s mouth in a kiss, rolling their erections together hurriedly. The more and more familiar sighs and gasps of pleasure fill the room and Bucky is probably making a lot of those really embarrassing whimpering noises. How did they not figure this out earlier? The marks are always hypersensitive, especially to each other’s touch, and Bucky feels a little stupid for not having put his mouth on Steve’s mark before. 

Steve pushes Bucky back onto the pillow, always so gentle with him, and then starts squirming his way down Bucky’s body. He sucks marks as he goes - one of Bucky’s collarbone, one on his chest, another at the base of his ribs where Bucky feels all the bond sensation most acutely and makes Bucky squirm with the overwhelming pleasure. Steve tugs Bucky’s boxers down and starts biting and licking at his hips and Bucky is so, so hard and if they keep going the way they are he is going to come way before he gets to fuck Steve. 

“Shit, stop, stop - “ Steve pulls away immediately, a little panic flinching in the bond and Bucky realizes how that might have sounded. “No, I mean. It’s good, it’s really good. Um,  _ too  _ good, and I really, really wanna have sex with you.” 

Steve laughs, relief relaxing his shoulders and the coil of his bond. “Yeah, I want that, too.”

Now that they’ve paused, Bucky feels his nerves return. Is he supposed to lead things, since he’s going to top? How is he going to top, given his broken arm? Is he supposed to prep Steve? What if he’s awful at it?

Steve’s gaze gentles, clearly reading some of Bucky’s worry. “Want me to show you?” There’s a little excited shyness in Steve’s eyes, like he  _ wants  _ to show Bucky, like that idea is turning him on and Bucky is so, so here for that. 

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes. Steve smiles - that adorable, pleased smile that he so rarely lets show that always makes Bucky feel soft and gooey inside. Steve stands up and starts stripping out of his boxers and Bucky kinda forgets everything else because naked Steve is still new enough to be thrilling. Bucky doesn’t know if naked Steve will ever  _ not  _ be thrilling. 

They’ve fooled around a lot in the last week, ever since blow jobs got introduced into their repertoire, and a lot of that has been naked fooling around. But Steve’s body is just so  _ great _ . Bucky could spend a really long time just looking at Steve, not even touching him. Well. It would be pretty hard not to touch, but Bucky’s not run into that issue yet. Steve always lets him touch if he wants to. 

Steve returns, naked, to bed, lube in one hand. He perches on Bucky’s thighs and Bucky can’t breathe for how fucking lucky he is. Steve pours a generous amount of lube into one hand, saying as he does, “It’s been a while. Gotta be careful.” 

And then 

_ And then _ Steve’s hand slinks between his thighs, behind his dick and heavy balls. Bucky can’t really see what’s happening, but Steve hisses and lets his head fall back, stretching his neck long, revealing the already fading marks Bucky had sucked there. But Bucky can’t  _ see  _ and he really wants to, even though it’s probably weird. It shouldn’t be sexy to watch Steve putting fingers up his butt - but even the thought of it is making Bucky even harder, his dick practically throbbing between his thighs. 

“I wanna see,” Bucky requests, ignoring the bright blush building on his cheeks. Steve tilts his chin to look at Bucky and his lips part and he nods, looking and feeling ridiculously turned on, heat coursing along the bond in both directions, turning everything into a raging inferno of  _ want _ . 

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Steve says, bringing his hand back and glancing at the bed and Bucky as if considering his options. He rolls to the side, landing on his back beside Bucky. “When you get inside me,” Steve says breathlessly, one hand working his dick while the other slips back again, “I should probably be on top, because of your arm. But for now -” 

But Bucky’s already figured out Steve’s plans and is hurrying to his knees, crouching between Steve’s spread thighs. Steve’s fingers are circling the pucker of his ass. Bucky’s never looked at someone else like this. Even when he’s watched porn he’s avoided looking directly at people’s holes. It’s  _ weird _ and Bucky can’t help feeling like it’s probably dirty, even though he knows Steve just spent half an hour getting things clean. And Bucky doesn’t completely understand how or why it feels good, but Steve is clearly enjoying himself. 

Gasps and sighs fill the air as Steve gently presses a finger in. The sound of lube and flesh is honestly a little gross, but the Steve’s happy noises easily grab Bucky’s attention. Steve gets one finger in himself and stops, wiggling it and rubbing. Bucky shuffles a little closer, unable to take his eyes off Steve. He sets his good hand on Steve’s thigh, rubbing and getting himself ready to touch Steve. He really wants to touch Steve  _ there _ , despite his concerns. Bucky pets his hand over familiar territory - Steve’s muscular legs, the arch of his hip, the weight of his balls. Steve  _ whimpers  _ when Bucky takes Steve’s foreskin in his fingers, touching it all the ways Bucky knows feel best to Steve. 

“Buck,” Steve mumbles, looking at him through half closed eyes. “Will you touch me, please?” It takes a moment for Bucky to get what Steve’s asking - he’s already touching Steve, afterall - but when he does he nods so quickly he pulls something in his neck. It’s easily ignorable, though, as he cautiously slides his fingers back. Steve’s wet with lube, and his own hand is mostly in the way, half curled into a fist. Curiously, Bucky touches the spot where Steve’s finger disappears inside him. The skin is still tightly drawn around it and Bucky’s not sure how anything else is going to fit in there. 

Steve brings another finger into the mix, brushing between Bucky’s and the finger inside him, and starting to push. Somehow, the skin and muscle gives, stretching. Bucky licks his lip, mouth suddenly very very dry. 

“Can I?” he asks, his voice scraping in his throat. Steve nods immediately and pulls his hand away. The little pink curl of skin closes again. Tentatively, Bucky trails his fingers over the hole, just playing, the way Steve always lets him do. Steve gasps and nods and tilts his ass towards the touch and Bucky gains a little confidence. Bucky puts one finger over the tight pucker of muscle and starts to  _ press _ . He gapes a little as he watches the muscle give, his finger slipping inside Steve. Gasping, Bucky stops. He doesn’t really have reference for how hot and tight Steve is inside, doesn’t have the vocabulary to describe how it feels to have Steve’s muscles clutching at his finger. But it is really fucking sexy. 

“You can add another,” Steve sighs out. His eyes are closed and his body is relaxed, letting the bed support his weight, but his hips are rolling minutely, taking Bucky’s finger further into his body incrementally. Bucky can’t stop staring at the picture he makes, pink and flushed, his dick hard and twitching with each change in position. It takes him a moment to remember Steve’s suggestion, but when he does he really can’t get to it soon enough. Bringing his middle finger down alongside his index finger, Bucky carefully presses it into Steve’s body. “Yeah,” Steve breathes, the motion of his hips speeding up slightly. “Yeah, like that. Move ‘em around.”

Bucky bites his lip, not sure where to start with that instruction. But if  _ playing  _ works for the rest of Steve’s body, Bucky figures it will work well enough here. The bond and Steve will both let him know if he does something wrong, so he might as well try it all. So he curls his fingers a little and then spreads them, feeling the hot muscle loosen and watching the way the motions stretch the skin. 

Steve’s pleasure is a low, soft sort of thing, like a cat winding around your ankles or socks right from the dryer, but it builds as Bucky explores. Bucky’s erection dwindles a little now that he’s not getting any direct stimulation, but that’s probably for the best anyway. And it’s nice, just to be able to focus on Steve - on what Steve is feeling and wanting and needing. So often when they fool around, it’s the other way around, because Steve is always trying to make sure that Bucky is having a good time. 

And Bucky appreciates that, don’t get him wrong. But it’s good to be able to just sit back and let Steve be the focus for once. Steve’s pleasure ticks up steadily until he’s gasping at every motion of Bucky’s fingers. 

“I’m good,” Steve says eventually. “We can - you can fuck me now.” Hearing  _ fuck  _ in Steve’s low, rough, bedroom voice makes Bucky’s eyes go wide and cheeks flush. But yes,  _ yes _ , he really, really wants that. Bucky scrambles for the condoms on the bedside table while Steve sits up, moving slowly, with a lazy grin on his face that makes Bucky want to kiss him. So he does, and then Steve’s hands are on Bucky’s hips and pressing him back down on to the bed, taking the condom from him as he does. Steve opens the packaging carefully and takes out the condom. 

Leaning down to kiss Bucky, Steve holds the base of Bucky’s dick with one hand and slowly rolls the condom over him. Bucky hisses and arches into the contact. He’s never actually had a condom on, though he’d seen and even touched them when Bernie gave Paul their  _ intro to safe sex  _ lecture after finding out that Paul’s high school has an abstinence only sex-ed policy. It feels really strange - his dick is so sensitive and the latex isn’t like any texture that Bucky’s had up in his junk before. But Steve doesn’t give him much time to think about it, instead taking his dick in hand and pumping up and down a few times. Still holding onto the base of Bucky’s dick, Steve rises up on his knees and shuffles forward, looking a little like a beached seal. He tilts his hips and Bucky’s dick rubs through Steve’s crack. 

Bucky takes a deep breath, trying to prepare himself, and then Steve is sinking down slowly onto Bucky’s dick. And  _ oh, holy hell,  _ there was no way Bucky could have been prepared for this - it’s hot and tight and all those other things, but also he’s  _ inside  _ Steve, and Steve is still settling down and then he’s  _ moving _ . 

“Steve,” he whispers, blown away by everything going on. “ _ Steve! _ ”

Steve grins down at Bucky, that sun rising falling in love feeling taking over his whole body and flowing into Bucky’s. Bucky groans as Steve rolls his hips, pressing Bucky further into the bed. One of Steve’s hands rest on the bed, probably to help him keep balanced, but the other rubs up Bucky’s chest, finding his nipples and pinching them gently, and the searching out all the spots he’s left marks and tracing them gently. Bucky doesn’t even know where to start touching Steve. At the moment it’s about all he can do to not come  _ immediately  _ from the sheer overwhelm of new sensation. 

Plus he can  _ feel _ how good Steve feels, the pleasure washing over him in waves and only adding to his own want. Steve’s so happy, too, a kind of exhilaration rushing through him just from being so close to Bucky - as close as two people can get, Bucky thinks, brain numb with lust. 

“Touch me,” Steve breathes a moment later, and Bucky is glad for the instruction and immediately puts his good hand on Steve’s dick. He’s kind of sad he doesn’t have both hands for this, but they’ll just have to do it again once he’s healed up. And before that. And just - all the time, Bucky thinks. Maybe he’ll just not respond to any of his job offers and just stay here having sex with Steve  _ forever.  _ It seems like a pretty valid plan, in the moment. 

Somehow Bucky manages to touch and stroke Steve’s dick the way he knows Steve likes, despite all of the other stuff going on. Bucky has a vague notion that he should be moving his hips more or helping Steve set the rhythm or  _ something _ , but he’s honestly too overwhelmed to even guess how to start that and Steve seems like he’s got it all under control. Steve’s ass keeps making these weird sucking noises that should totally gross Bucky out, but in all of it, it’s just another thing that means  _ sex with Steve,  _ and all those things are good no matter how weird or gross they might be in other settings. 

Bucky’s not sure how long it lasts - it feels like forever, but also like thirty seconds, and then something shifts and Steve is groaning and rocking harder down onto Bucky’s dick and then up into Bucky’s hand. Steve’s eyes flutter shut and his mouth falls open in that really stupid expression he always makes when he’s about to come. Bucky grips Steve’s dick a little tighter, moves his hand a little faster and Steve comes with a jerk and a moan and everything clamps down like a vice around Bucky and Bucky couldn’t have held on with even the best control in the world. Closing his eyes, Bucky manages to rock his hips up towards Steve one last time. Bucky comes with a low groan, the feeling doubling and tripling as it echoes across the bond, til it slowly fades, leaving Bucky feeling a bit like a limp noodle. 

Steve slumps down and rolls off Bucky, cuddling close. They’re gross and sticky, but that doesn’t really matter. 

“Wow,” Bucky breathes, turning to Steve with what he’s sure is an utterly dopey smile on his face. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Steve responds with a grin, reaching up to kiss Bucky. 

They lie there quietly for a few moments, an unfamiliar sort of warmth and heaviness settling in Bucky’s limbs. Steve’s side of the bond is the perfect blue sky of bliss, and the summer heat of love, and the sunshine on water of awe, and under all of it, a twining thread tying them together, knotted and strong, unbreakable. 

Bucky tucks himself into Steve’s side, breathes in the smell of his soap on Steve’s skin, mixed with sweat and the smell of laundry detergent from the clean sheets below him. 

“I’m really glad I waited for you,” Bucky tells him. Steve squeezes him. 

“I’m really glad I found you,” Steve replies. 

And yeah, that’s how it is, isn’t it? Bucky’s waited and waited, building a life for Steve to join, while Steve waited, aimless and often alone until he found his way to Bucky. All those years Bucky spent alone were worth it, just knowing that he’s made a place where Steve can be happy - where they can both be happy. 

There’s a whole life ahead of them - a life they’ll build together. Bucky’s pretty sure he wants that internship in DC. He hasn’t asked Steve how he feels about moving yet, but he thinks it might be good for Steve - to get away from New York and the Avengers, maybe have a chance to make new friends and build a life in this century that isn’t all about fighting. 

Steve and he both have a chance, now, to live life outside the ice. Maybe Steve will get his GED and go back to school. Maybe Bucky will finally get to go sledding. It doesn’t really matter what they do, Bucky thinks, curling a little closer to Steve and breathing him in. All their days will be warm. 

_ fin.  _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [icoulddothisallday on tumblr](https://icoulddthisallday.tumblr.com/)   
>  [instagrims on tumblr](http://instagrims.tumblr.com)


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